Magic Words
by the.goal.is.greatness
Summary: And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft... Thou shall not suffer a witch to live. [Merlin x Arthur] [AU]
1. Chapter 01 October 1691

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 462  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

Arthur Pendragon shook his head from the back of the church as he watched Samuel Parris make his sermon. The fact that he could not see or feel the unrest of his congregation spoke volumes as to whether or not he should actually hold this position.

Several weeks ago, the people of Salem had come together and decided to stop paying his wages (no doubt due to the new editions to the church – a set of solid gold candlesticks) because they felt he was using their money for superfluous goods. He had not taken it well. Calling them greedy, sinful, un-Puritan. They would let the Devil in with their wicked ways.

Understandably, it was not going well.

In the front row, sat the good reverend's family: his dainty, doe-faced little wife, Elizabeth, and their three children, Thomas, Betty, and Susannah. The youngest was barely out of childhood. All four of them were perfectly dressed and coifed, the perfect Puritan family, hands folded stilly in their laps, looking up at their father and husband, nodding along with his preaching as if they agreed with every word.

Of the remainder of the congregation, much of them were shifting uncomfortably in their seats, glancing from side to side at each other. Many of them were frowning.

Arthur could see the unease in the room. He could see the tensions rising, the moods shifting. These people were a powder keg about to explode. When he had traveled here from England to issue their new charter, Arthur had not expected so much unrest. It seemed as if the Salem colony wasn't doing as well as anticipated.

He could see the conflict stirring. With half of the townspeople against Parris' words, and the other half agreeing with him, the only thing that could unite the town would be some sort of catastrophe. Or Parris' removal.

Movement in the upper balcony caught his eyes, and Arthur glanced up instinctively. A young man was leaning against the railing, nonchalant and elegantly graceless. Coal black hair was tousled as if hands were run continuously through it. Arthur couldn't see his eyes from this distance, but he could see they were starting at Parris intently, and frowning.

As he watched, the young man turned his head, eyes boring into Arthur's for one long moment, before turning and vanishing into the shadows.


	2. Chapter 02 January 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,945  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

"Gaius? I'm back." Merlin shut the door softly behind him as he walked into the cottage. "I couldn't find any – " His sentence was abruptly cut short as he walked into the kitchen and saw Gaius standing on one side of the table, with two men of the town on the other. Samuel Parris was wearing his Sunday best (he almost always was, as a show to the town of his godly position over them). Thomas Putnam wasn't wearing his military regalia, but he didn't need to be, to be recognized. His family was one of the wealthiest in Salem, they'd lived here for over four generations. Everyone knew who he was.

Merlin halted abruptly in the doorway, eyes glancing from Gaius to the men and then back again.

"Ah, Merlin," Gaius said with a wave of his hand at the gentlemen, "you, of course, know Reverend Parris and Mr. Putnam."

A gracious nod of his head. "How do you do?" They nodded in return.

"This is Merlin, my apprentice."

"And what is it that you're apprenticed here to learn, young man?" The Reverend's eyes were piercing, trying to bore into Merlin's sins as his gaze swept over him.

Merlin didn't need to see Gaius' warning look to answer. "Medicine, sir. Gaius is teaching me all about herbs and teas and things in order to help the townspeople should they need it." He affected a sorrowful look. "My mother passed away in a raid when I was young, and I couldn't do anything to help her, see?" Cue the looks of understanding and the pity in their eyes.

Parris hmm-ed in answer, turning back to Gaius dismissively. "Well, Gaius, if you discover anything in your books about other cases like this, please tell us immediately." Gaius nodded, and began walking the two towards the door.

"Of course, gentlemen, I'll do my absolute best."

Just as Gaius was about to close the door, Parris' eyes were drawn to the shelf over the sink. Vials and jars of herbs and seeds and liquids were stacked there. As the Reverend opened his mouth to no doubt ask about the scattering of items, a loud barking was followed by the scream of a horse.

"Come on Parris, I would like to check on Ann, if you don't mind."

Parris snapped to attention. "Yes, of course, you're right. Gaius, until we meet again."

When the door swung closed behind them, Gaius leaned against it, frowning at Merlin. But Merlin could see the smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. Merlin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You shouldn't have frightened the horses, boy," he said, waving a stern finger at his apprentice, but his eyes were filled with mirth.

As the two of them puttered about the kitchen, organizing the very shelf that had caught Parris' eye, making it look more ordinary, they spoke of the impromptu visit.

"Apparently Parris and Putnam's daughters had both been complaining of fevers for weeks. Just yesterday Parris' niece began the same complaints. There doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong with them. They want me to see if I can find any illness that matches their symptoms." He sighed, placing his hands on the table and starting at Merlin. "But that doesn't sound like anything I recognize. All I can probably do that won't cause a stir is make a tea for their symptoms."

"Anything I can do?"

A sigh. "Just get me some willowbark and we'll go from there."

* * *

A few days later found Merlin in the town market. It was the dead of winter, so herbs were hard to come by. Well, there were _ways_ he could get herbs, but Gaius liked the villagers to see Merlin purchasing them from time to time or people would start to ask questions.

"And how much for the whole bushel?" Merlin was holding a tightly bunched bundle of lavender, tapping one foot imperceptibly as he bargained for the flowers.

"Well, let's see now…" A greedy gleam lit up the old man's eyes. No doubt his poor wife was out every waking moment collecting things for him to peddle. He probably didn't get her a cent of his earnings. Puritans, honestly. Someone always had to make a bad name for the whole bunch. "It's hard to come by these days, yes, sir." Merlin held back an eye roll. The man had barely opened his mouth to continue his spiel when a blood-curdling scream from farther down the market cut through the air.

Dozens of people jumped in surprise. Merlin's head shot up at the sound, and, tossing the man a handful of coins, he ran off without waiting to see if it was enough, simply shouted a thank you over his shoulder, shoving the lavender in his bag as he left. Two blocks away was a crowd of people Merlin had to shove his way through, but he realized why everyone was staring as soon as he made his way through the onlookers.

Three young girls were in the middle of the street. Ann Putnam, Jr., who had only just begun complaining of fever a few scant days earlier, was screaming bloody murder, pulling at her hair, face red. Abigail Williams, Thomas Parris' niece, who had been living with their family since her parents had died, was on the ground on all fours, sniffing the dirt and periodically barking like a dog, growling at anyone who came too close. And Betty Parris, the good reverend's own daughter, barely ten years old, was lying prone in the dust, tearing at her clothes, crying as if she were dying.

"What in God's name?"

The soft utterance next to Merlin startled him into action. Dropping his bag to the ground, he moved forward, unsure which girl to administer to first. "Someone get the Doctor," he snapped at the closet person, making sure they nodded in affirmative and darted off before he stopped in from of young Ann. "Miss Putnam?" No response, just more screaming. Her eyes were glazed, looking right through him. He snapped in front of her face, tried to make her follow his finger, but there was nothing to suggest she was aware of him at all.

Side-stepping Abigail, who was the quietest and therefore could be dealt with last, Merlin knelt beside Betty. Pressing the back of his hand to her forehead, it was cool and dry. No fever. No sickness. With a wary glance around, Merlin lowered his eyes and surreptitiously pressed two fingers against her forehead, disguising the gesture as he lifted her head to look into her eyes. With a soft surge of magic he felt for any ill presence. Nothing.

When a hand abruptly clapped down on his shoulder, it startled Merlin so much he almost let Betty's head slam into the ground. A tingle spread through him from the contact, the residue of magic leaving his body, but the individual didn't seem to notice. When they crouched next to him, he looked over, expecting the town Doctor, but it was that boy he'd seen in Church months ago – Pendragon. Something Pendragon.

"What is wrong with them?" His voice was gravelly in shock, low and deep. His eyes, so focused on the poor girl, lifted when Merlin answered that he didn't know, deep blue eyes lighting in vague recognition. "Are you a physician?"

Merlin shrugged, an artless movement. "In training," he answered, even as he reached out to feel Abigail's pulse as she crawled by. She growled at him, snapping at him with her blunt, human teeth, but not before Merlin had time to feel how calm and even her heartbeats were. "I've called for the Doctor, maybe he'll know what's wrong with them." But Merlin was frowning even as he said it, not sure that _anything_ was wrong with them.

"The Devil is in them!"

All heads but three snapped up at the declaration. The Doctor was staring in abject horror at the girls.

"Oh, Lord." Merlin discreetly began to inch backwards, grabbing his bag as he went, and using the villager's fascination with the Doctor's ministrations to sneak through the crowd unseen. He'd made it a few blocks before, again, a hand grabbed his shoulder. Merlin sighed. This was becoming too common, he thought at he turned to face the Pendragon kid.

His eyes were staring into Merlin's defiantly. "Do you disagree with the Doctor?"

Merlin realized with a start that he had overheard his incredulous mumbling. "I –" Shrugging the hand off his shoulder and straightening his shirt, he tilted his chin up impetuously. "They show no signs of illness that I can fathom, but that does not mean they are not ill. As a physician I am trained to look for realistic answers to all symptoms."

The screaming seemed even louder as Pendragon stared at him silently. Shifting his stance, and looking down to adjust his bag, Merlin fiddled with the straps. Abruptly, the screaming stopped. When Pendragon turned at the sudden silence Merlin offered his expert medical advice. "They probably tired themselves out."

"All at once?" His voice with thick with skepticism.

Merlin merely shrugged. "If you don't need me for anything then, sir…?"

Another long stare and Merlin was really starting to hate that knowing look, where you could just see the wheels turning in that blonde-topped head. "What's your name, you seem familiar."

"Merlin Emrys." A pause. "And you are?"

The boy looked flabbergasted, as if unaccustomed to people not knowing him. "I'm Arthur Pendragon," he said, in a tone that would have been equally at home had he been declaring himself the King of the World. He was looking at Merlin as if he were an idiot. "My father composes the charters for your village and I am here to make sure they are followed." Merlin mumbled a non-committal ah in agreement. "How do you not know that?"

A shrug. "My teacher and I live on the outskirts of town, it's easier to find herbs there. We only come to town on occasion." He glanced over Arthur's shoulder at the crowd of people. "Though I have the feeling we will both be here more often."

Arthur was staring at him again, gaze traveling from his head down to his boots. What he was making of Merlin, Merlin couldn't tell, but he was starting to fidget under the look. "Indeed." A long pause. "I shall call on you and your teacher should things escalate, two medical opinions are better than one after all." He waited until Merlin gave a hesitant nod, before spinning neatly on his heel and vanishing back into the crowd.

Merlin stared after him, long after he had disappeared from his sight. He vaguely remembered hearing that the man who enforced Salem's charters was young, but he had still been imaging a man in his 30's. Pendragon was barely out of boyhood, maybe Merlin's own age. But he carried himself as if he knew he were important, shoulders broad with the weight of what lay on them. His eyes were sharp, focused. They were knowing, seeing eyes.

"Arthur Pendragon, huh?" His mouth twitched in an interested smile without his notice. "I'll have to watch out for you."


	3. Chapter 03 February 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 2,117  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

"Please, sir, have you anything to spare?"

Arthur glanced up at the question, gaze lighting on a middle-aged woman, poorly dressed, dirty and tired looking, very noticeably pregnant. She was holding out a hand expectantly, a tattered dressed child stood gripping her skirts, eyes wide and sorrowful. "Um, no, miss, I'm sorry."

There was no debate from her, she merely shuffled off. Arthur heard her repeating her question to passerby. Sometimes she was given food or coin, mostly she was scorned and scoffed at. Sarah Good was in her late thirties, but because life had been so unkind to her she looked much older. Her first husband had died suddenly and reduced her to poverty with the amount of his debts. Her second husband, William, was sometimes seen around town doing odd-jobs for people, but it was not enough to support his wife, or Dorothy, their four-year-old child. Arthur watched her go for a long moment, before shaking his head and continuing on.

Salem past the edge of the village was a completely different world than Arthur was used to. His home, (well his home in England) was a castle – huge and drafty and cold. Salem proper was full of tightly packed houses, it smelled of wood and people and animals. The church bells always seemed to be singing. But the farther down the road Arthur walked, the more tranquil and peaceful it was. Young girls had been falling ill with fever progressively over the last few weeks. Worried parents were always running through the streets, the air always filled with questions in the town.

Out here, the air was quiet, still. Nothing but birdsong and buzzing bees. Nothing but flowing wind and gurgling streams. There was nothing to break the serene –

"Shit!"

Arthur jerked, startled, at the sudden expletive, his head shooting up at the noise. Off the path a few yards ahead of him was a sight that made his eyes soften and a smile tug at his mouth.

Merlin was lying prone on the ground, having very clearly just fallen there. His eyes were focused on a small brightly colored fox who was proudly holding his scarf in between its teeth, a feral grin on its vulpine face. The boy was frowning, but even from here Arthur could see his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Come here you little brat." He clicked his tongue enticingly, reaching out one long-fingered hand slowly.

Walking towards the scene, Arthur asked, "Is this how a doctor's apprentice studies?" He felt a trill of glee when Merlin jumped, causing the fox (scarf in tow) to scamper off into the brush, Merlin watching forlornly. "Well?" Arthur questioned, standing on the road directly above the boy, arms crossed as he stared downward.

Merlin turned his head and let his gaze travel slowly from Arthur's boots, up long legs, darting side-to-side on narrow hips, a long sweep of lashes as his eyes flitted up the flat stomach, they gave a cursory appreciative glance to broad shoulders, before settling on deep blue eyes. He held the gaze as he stood and climbed out of the ditch, making a half-hearted attempt to brush grass and leaves from his clothing. "Hello, Arthur." When he stood in front of the young Pendragon, Arthur was taken aback for a moment at how viscerally blue Merlin's eyes were. It looked like chips of sky had been composed onto his face. And they had an eerie way of staring at you like they could see all of your thoughts fliting across your face, like the owner had secrets. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "What brings you out to these neck of the woods?"

"I need that second opinion."

Merlin blinked, gears noticeably turning in his head as he took in those words. "Because…"

"Because Parris' daughter and niece and the Putnam girl are all still behaving ridiculously erratically."

A quick tilt of the head and a slight frown. "And…"

Arthur sighed. Knowing eyes, indeed. "And the good doctor thinks they're possessed by the Devil and it is stirring the townspeople into an absolute panic."

"Ah." Arthur could make neither heads nor tails of that non-committal noise, but luckily he continued. "I'll need my bag." He paused a beat, shrugged, and then gestured down the road, beginning to walk. As Arthur fell into step beside him he asked, "How did you know where I lived?"

Arthur lifted one broad shoulder in an artless shrug. "I asked around."

"Hm." Arthur glanced at him from the corner of one eye, but Merlin didn't seem perturbed that he'd been asking about his home, he was gazing around at the scenery, relaxed and at ease. Arthur felt himself unwinding in his presence. There was a long, compatible silence, as the two young men simply walked farther towards the outskirts of town. They were just coming over a rise, a small cottage appearing in front of them, when Merlin broke the quiet. "So what has been done for the girls so far?"

Arthur answered distractedly, looking around with interest at Merlin's home. "Oh, tea, prayers, the usual." There were herbs hanging from all the rafters, the air thick and pungent with the smell of it. Scales and jars spilling over with seeds and fruits. "I only just managed to stop them from bringing out the leeches before I left to retrieve you." There were books in every corner, stacked under every table, on the windowsills, on the counters. He turned back to Merlin. "But I don't know how long they'll wait. That Osborne women – the one who's somehow related to the Putnam family?" He frowned trying to remember.

"Her first husband's sister married a Putnam."

"Yes. Well, she's been hosting a candlelit vigil over young Ann for several days now. But she refuses to allow her own children into the house for fear they'll catch whatever is ailing her, so the trio of them mill around the entranceway all hours of the day and night." A disgruntled sigh. "It's very much a mess in town."

A professional nod as he slung a bag over his shoulder. "Alright, let's go."

The walk back was uneventful, but Arthur was surprised at how easy it was to simply walk with Merlin. Merlin, a young man, who seemed to both radiate a nervous energy but also exude a calmness that Arthur's own life was lacking. Maybe it was the Merlin was from such a small village, and Arthur grew up in a castle, his father always demanding he be better. With so much weight settled on his shoulders when he was given the duty of watching over Salem's charters, it was a pleasant change to be so unaccustomedly at ease.

The pair walked in comfortable silence until they reached the Parris house. When Merlin gestured towards the servant's entrance towards the rear of the house, Arthur didn't argue. There was no less than a dozen villagers milling around the front door, several of them holding hands and praying.

Arthur was just knocking on the door when he noticed Merlin kneeling down in the grass by one of the garden beds, frowning intently at something. A few steps closer so he could lean down to look as he asked with revulsion, "What _is_ that?" It was a lump of something, tan and partially digested, smelling strongly of urine.

"It's a witch cake," Merlin answered distractedly, poking at it with the toe of one dark boot. "I've never seen someone use one before." When he looked up and met Arthur's wide-eyed, incredulous gaze, he explained. "From what I've read, a person makes a rye cake with the… well, urine… of an afflicted person and feeds it to a dog into order to discover the name of whoever bewitched them." A shrug. "I guess you read it like an augury might read birds or entrails in the olden days. The books never explained that." They stared down at the mess. "I wonder who made this…"

"That'd be me, child." The two turned. Parris servant woman was standing with a basket full of linens. "The young missus were ver' upset. Some of the girls in town taught them how to make one of them Venus' glasses –" When Merlin nodded in understanding, Arthur nodded, too, making a mental note to ask him about that later. " – and they did not like what they saw." She jerked her chin at the house. "They been like dis ever since – "

"That's enough Tituba."

Without there noticing the Reverend had opened the door behind them. He was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, frowning at Tituba like it was Sunday sermon and she was the worst kind of sinner. When she had shuffled off with her laundry, he turned, face transforming as he looked at the two boys.

"Mr. Pendragon, welcome back, and I see you've brought a physician for my girls." He smiled at Merlin, but his eyes were tired and bloodshot, his pallor gravid and pale. "Thank you for coming, my boy. If you'll please follow me?" He motioned inside and the two followed him in.

The house had the heavy, thick feeling in the air that the houses of the ill always have, the very air poignant with waiting for something to happen. As the door closed behind them, and the sounds of the village faded, a new sound began to fill the air, growing louder the farther back in the house they moved. Groans and thudding movements, fumbling and crying. When the door opened, Parris rushed in to his daughter's bedside, Merlin directly behind him, but Arthur stayed back, watching the proceedings.

A girl sat in each bed, their sheets sweat soaked from violent tossing and turning. They lashed their heads from side to side like whips, teeth gnashed like horses. They tore at their hair, their blankets, their nightgowns. They dug blunt nails into their arms and raked marks down their cheeks.

Merlin sat his bag on the dresser between their beds and began to check them over, the furrow between his eyes deepening with every task. He checked their eyes and ears, looked down their throats, listened to their heartbeats. After asking Parris' permission, he gently prodded at the girls' abdomens. After many long minutes, he sat back, staring at Betty with abject confusion. Even Arthur could see that he had found nothing wrong.

"I am at a loss, Reverend."

Parris slumped with defeat. "That is what they have all said, it is no fault of your skill."

"Yes but – " he choked back his answer and Arthur was intrigued to see the gleam of anger in those blue eyes. "I don't think there _is_ anything – "

Merlin was cut off again, but this time because both young girls arched off the bed, backs in perfect bows so tight the tendons stood out in stark relief on their necks. Their eyes were rolling back in their heads and, though their mouths were widely, jaw-crackingly open, they were eerily silent.

"Abigail, darling, please stop this!" Parris was distraught, tears welling in his eyes as he took ahold of his daughter's hand. "Betty, please!" The only change was they both began to emit a high-pitched wailing cry those rose higher and higher until they were almost screaming. "Who torments you?!"

Betty took a deep shuddering breath, and in a croaking voice, whispered, "A witch…"

The Reverend's mouth dropped open and he immediately began simultaneously calling for help and trying to get more information from his daughter and his niece, but Arthur was distracted from that by the look on Merlin's face.

Merlin was deathly pale. The blood had drained from his cheeks as quickly as the tidal wave receding, leaving his eyes glowing like blue lamps in the stark whiteness of his face. His mouth was taking in quick, panting breaths – panicked noises. And he was backing away from the room almost imperceptibly. With half an ear Arthur heard the girls muttering names (Tituba, Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne), but he was focused and intrigued by Merlin's primitive reaction.

When those eyes darted up, sensing Arthur's stare, and met his gaze, Arthur sucked in a breath. They were wide and blue, flecked with golden specks that he had never noticed before.

And they were terrified.


	4. Chapter 04 March 1, 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,800  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

For the few weeks between the girl's accusations and the subsequent arrest of the three declared witches, and the trial, Merlin was a wreck. He fluttered with nervous energy, knocked over jars, spilled the cream, frightened the cat. Gaius was so fed up with him at one point that he banished him from the house. But while in town, Merlin upset a vegetable cart and spook a priest's horse, so he no longer allowed in company until he calmed down.

How could he stay calm though? The young girls had, for some reason, declared those poor women witches. Merlin couldn't speak for Tituba, but Sarah Osborne and Sarah Good were as much witches as the Reverend was. They were simply misunderstood women in this time, looked down upon for not conforming to the strict beliefs of the Salem villagers. They had nothing to hide.

Merlin, on the other hand, – he had everything to hide. His very name was a reason for people not to trust him. He liked it here, he liked the stillness and the calmness. He had even begun to, hesitantly, with the distrustful nature of a stray cat being offered a saucer of milk, begun to think that he and Arthur could be friends.

But he should stay away from Arthur now. Arthur had a good name, a good family. And though he had come calling several times over the past few weeks, Merlin always managed to be elsewhere. He could not drag a good man into what was sure to be an absolute circus show. These poor people were not equipped to discover witches, and, even if they could or by some miracle caught a real witch, they would never restrain them, never manage to harm them. You cannot trap a witch in a cage. No normal person could.

He debated not attending the trial at all, but fear that they would call upon him for medical advice and would condemn him should he be absent forced his hand. He dressed with a heavy heart, his feet positively leaden as he walked to town. But the distance always seems too short when you are dreading the destination, and he arrived in no time at all.

As he had suspected, the courthouse was almost a riot – it seemed as if the entire town was attempting to cram into the finite space, all wanting a glimpse of the witch women who had been held in the town jail since last month. They had all made their decision, no trial needed. Shouts of "Witch!" and "Burn them!" and "Devil's whores!" were liberally thrown around. They didn't want evidence. They wanted an execution.

Shaking his head, he slid between the people of the crowd, swift and silent, making sure people's eyes saw him, but glanced away. He did not want to speak to people, did not want to draw attention to himself. Judge John Hathorne and Judge Jonathon Corwin were just settling into their seats, as Merlin found a place near one of the courtroom's pillars.

"Merlin!"

The shout of his name made him jerk and his head snapped up at the sound. Directly across the room from him, looking as if he was one moment away from elbowing people out of his way to get to Merlin, was Arthur. He was impeccably dressed, but his hair was ruffled as if hands had been run continuously through it in agitation, his eyes were tired. But they were bright with irritation as they looked at Merlin. He was just opening his mouth to shout again, when Hathorne banged his gavel and silence fell.

Relieved at the interruption, Merlin turned from Arthur's gaze to face the front.

"Silence! Court is now in session. We are here today to examine the three women, Sarah Osborne, Sarah Good, and Tituba, who are all accused of the crime and sin of witchcraft." Shouts rang out and continued until the gavel was banged again. "We are here today only to examine them for their crime, not to pass sentence." More unrest in the pews. "Bring out the accused!"

When the trio of women were brought out, hands tied before them like common criminals, Merlin held back a gasp of shock. They were filthy and malnourished. Their lips were cracked and bleeding, bruises bloomed like dark ink stains on what pieces of their skin were visible. They had clearly already been tortured.

Hathorne repeated the same statements to the women, telling them of their crimes. Good and Osborne wept silent tears and murmured prayers under their breaths. Tituba stood defiantly, chin high but trembling, her hands shaking.

One by one he asked them if they were witches. One by one they denied the question. He asked if they consorted with the Devil or with demons or with other witches. They all declined. He asked if they attended Church, made them all speak the name of Jesus Christ, made them drink holy water brought forth by the Reverend. He asked if they had any devil marks on their skin and when they declined, he had the bailiff show the spreading bruises on their arms.

The crowd gasps and booed and jeered. Some spit over the railing at the women, others hissed like angry cats. They were out for blood.

"No, sir, that's not the mark of the devil!" Sarah Good was tearfully brandishing her bruised wrists at the judges. "I only got them from the ropes, sir. Not the devil, I swear it!"

The crowd yelled louder. "Liar!" "Devil's wife!" "Sinner!"

Corwin made a half-hearted attempt to silence the crowd, but it was clear that he was eating up the vocalizations of the viewers. He was enjoying the shouting, the display.

Hathorne spoke loudly over the din and trill of the room, berating the women with more questions, repeating them with different wording, trying to confuse them, to get them to give themselves up.

"Tituba! Just tell us! Do not condone this wickedness any longer! With what evil spirit have you been familiar with?"

"None, sir."

"And why do you hurt this children?"

"I do not hurt them!"

Merlin sighed to himself. The judges didn't care what they were saying, they weren't hearing their answers, it didn't matter what they said. They would hear what they wanted to hear. These women were condemned the moment their names passed those girl's lips.

"Who hurt these poor girls then?" Corwin asked, gesturing at the trio of accusers from their place next to the judge's stand. "Who was it?"

"The… the devil."

The crowd, and Merlin, sucked in their breath.

"And did you ever see the Devil?"

"He came to me, yes. And… and he bid me to serve him."

 _What the hell…?_

"Did you see anyone else with the Devil?"

"Yes, sir. Four women would hurt the children, sir."

 _Be quiet woman! Why are you doing this?_

Hathorne was practically falling off the podium as he leaned down to peer at Tituba, his face exalted and triumph as he sensed victory just a moment away. His eyes were wide and crazy, a maniac gleam in them. How could the others not see what a circus show this was becoming? This woman had been beaten, probably tortured. She had given up. They had broken her. The judge was a shark scenting blood in the water. " _And w_ _ho were they?_ "

Merlin was on the edge of his seat as anyone else in the court, you could have heard a pin drop with how silent the room was. No one dared to breathe.

So when a hand clamped down on his forearm, Merlin jumped in alarm, almost shrieking in shock. When he looked up, it was not very far, into Arthur's prominent deep blue eyes, which were flashing in irritation and ire. They were so blue and so bright.

 _And so close…_

"What is the matter with you?" He hissed between gritted teeth, leaning in to whisper the words directly into Merlin's face.

But before he could answer, Tituba spoke and her answer sent the court reeling. "Sarah Osborne and Sarah Good hurt the children, sir!" Over the bellowing of the crowd, Tituba stood defiantly straight and tale, eyes flashing. "They are witches! There are many witches in Salem!"

The villages dissolved into chaos. There was screaming and whispered prayers. The young girls began to seize, their eyes rolling in their heads, pointing fingers at the accused. They rocked to and fro in their seats, they shouted about the devils visiting them in the night, they dug their blunt nails into their cheeks until they bled and the bailiffs had to restrain them.

Merlin was horrified. This was turning into a witch hunt. It would not end here. Not with Tituba having so blatantly declared that Salem was basically being overrun with witches. Gaius had told him about the witch hunts he had seen in England. Those had ended in fire and brimstone and torture. They had been massacres.

He was backing away without realizing he was doing it, his hand slipping from Arthur's suddenly slack grasp. He felt ill and pale, panicked with lack of air. He needed to get out.

He had forced his way out of the courthouse in a flurry of elbows and shoulders, eyes wide and unseeing. The alley he fumbled out into was small, but most importantly empty of people. Merlin sagged against the wall, taking in great gulps of air to calm himself, closing his eyes to block out the sound of accusations and yelling.

"What in the world is the matter with you?!" When Arthur burst out into the alley, Merlin wasn't even surprised. He opened his eyes and found Arthur standing before him, close in the narrow space, furious and defiant, radiating strength and irritation. "Where have you _been_?"

"I – " But Merlin was too overcome with the day's events to even begin to answer that, to even try to explain why he had been avoiding him. "Not now, Arthur." He let his eyes close again. "Not now."

For a moment there was silence, and when he heard movement he thought Arthur was leaving, but with a jolt of surprise he felt Arthur slouch against the wall beside him, soldiers touching, hands beside each other. And even though the moment was precious and quiet and soft, even though the sense of comradery was overpowering, almost stifling, Merlin couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his stomach that things were about to get much, much worse.


	5. Chapter 05 March 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 2,050  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

The town erupted into a terrifying whirlwind of accusations and pleas, arrest warrants and trials after that day. So much that Arthur could barely complete his daily functions, let along write to his father and let him know about the happenings in Salem. How was he supposed to see to it that their charter was followed when they were descending into chaos and scorn?

How could he find a moment to dwell on the feeling that stirred in his chest when his hand had brushed against Merlin's in that dark alley?

His own hand clenched in a fist, as if trying to hold on to the memory of skin on skin. With one turn of wrist they would have been palm to palm. He remembered, too, the feeling of gripping Merlin's wrist in the circle of his fingers in the courtroom, his fingers strong and tight, Merlin's wrist as slender and delicate as any woman's – as graceful and pale as a swan's wing. But the pulse had been beating a dizzying dance against his sensitive fingertips, and when Merlin met his gaze terrified and lost, Arthur had released him.

Watching him vanish into the crowd had stirred a strong protective urge in him that he could not explain. Was it because Merlin was both a man and a child all at once? He was tall – taller than Arthur – strength hidden underneath an unassumingly lithe form, hands broad and calloused from work, eyes intelligent and knowing. But he was boyish and charming and _real_ – looking around with wonder, happy and smiling at the smallest things. Arthur could not watch him walk away.

But now, as the days and weeks passed, as the low murmuring transformed into a full crescendo of charges and claims, that boyishness was fading. Something about this made Merlin quiet and subdued, made him look at the world around him with – not quite distrust – but with discontent, unease. He looked like a wary wild animal.

"Don't tell me you believe in these accusations, Merlin?"

The man in question turned to face Arthur, drawing his gaze away from the crowd. They were seated on the steps of the town fountain, several ancient medical textbooks spread between them, Merlin doing research for Gaius, Arthur simply bored and helping. Cerulean eyes bore into him, thinking, contemplating. "It's not about what I think, is it?"

Arthur scoffed. "It's about what _everybody_ thinks."

Another long pause, before Merlin tilted his head back at the group across the square. A dozen townspeople were gleefully watching Martha Corey be dragged from the church, where she had gone to donate clothing, to be brought in for questioning. "What do you know of Mistress Corey?"

A shrug. "I don't know, Merlin. I've only lived here for a few years. She's married to a farmer, goes to church every week." He pursed his lips. "That's all."

"She has an illegitimate child from before her marriage, a mixed child. Her current husband killed one of his farm hands 20 years ago. Even though they appear respectable, they have secrets that make them unwelcome to the elite of Salem." There was a long, pregnant beat as Merlin let Arthur take that in. "So you'll forgive me, _sire_ , if it compels me towards disbelief when it is the elite families who accuses Martha's spirit of attacking their children." He turned to look back at the arrest – Giles Corey was doing nothing to help his wife, even seemed to be helping the officers push her forward – "People who do not conform… they…" He swallowed thickly. "They wind up with fingers pointed at them."

"Do you think you are nonconforming?"

"It's no secret Gaius does not believe in this witchcraft nonsense, and, as his protégée, I am inclined to agree with him that none of those women are witches. People just dislike them, so they find ways to _prove_ they're right. They say that Mistress Corey tried to prevent her husband from going to the first trial so she must be working with the Devil to conceal his plans."

"Maybe she just didn't want him to go."

Merlin chuckled. "Yes, but an angry mob can twist anything to suit their purpose, even a meddling wife."

Arthur grinned. "Well, as long as you promise not to be my meddling wife I think you'll be okay." When Merlin threw back his head and laughed, revealing the long column of throat, beautifully carefree for the first time in days, Arthur felt a bubble of joy bloom inside his own chest. New and uncommon, but very, very welcome.

* * *

Less than a week later and there was another new resident in the Salem jailhouse.

"At this rate, they're going to have to build a bigger jail to house all of these witches."

Merlin snorted as they watched Edward and John Putnam all but drag Rebecca Nurse, seventy years old if she was a day and a grandmother several times over, into the jail. "Cheap affordable housing for all your witching needs," he murmured softly so as not to be overheard.

"I am innocent, I tell you all! You all allow your children to dabble in fortune-telling and expect the devil not to come calling, well that is your mistake, not mine!" Rebecca might be going slowly due to her age, but she sure wasn't going quietly. "You mark my words! The devil has come calling, but My Lord and Savior knows my soul is clean!"

The pair of them turned away as the crowd's boos and jeering grew too loud to hear poor Rebecca any longer. "Are you going to Martha Corey's examination tomorrow?"

Arthur was torn. He should be there, it was part of his duty to oversee these things. Though, honestly the town judges and the Reverend didn't listen to him, they were too wrapped up in the zealotry of finding witches, Arthur was basically just furniture in the meeting rooms. But he still wanted to see the examination unfold, be aware of what was happening and to whom. However he knew Merlin sincerely did not want to go, but, like him, was bound by unspoken rules that made him need to go. For Merlin it was that he did not want to draw attention to himself by _not_ going, the same as Corey. "Yes," he said simply, "I have to."

And if it felt like Merlin brushed their hands together lightly as they walked as a show of gratitude, Arthur forced himself to ignore it.

* * *

Martha's examination went almost exactly the way that Arthur had expected it to go. Much like the first examination of accused witches, Hathorne and Corwin spoke quickly and loudly, trying to confuse Martha, trying to trap her in a lie. Martha denied every claim, had answers for every charge that made sense and rang of truthfulness to Arthur. But still the judges berated her.

The trial was compounded by the continued presence of the afflicted girls, whose purpose, Arthur could only fathom, was to stir up the court into a near frenzy of excitement with their theatrics and supposed sufferings. At every motion of Mistress Corey, the girls would gasp and flinch, they would swat at invisible opponents in the air around them. Once when Martha stood to shout her innocence, all the girls fell to the floor and seemed to have violent seizures, spitting and choking, screaming to all present to please get the birds away, they were hurting them.

Arthur and Merlin watched from one of the balconies, rapt and focused on the trial below. It took four physicians, Gaius one of them, to calm the girls and compose them once more. As Gaius himself settle the last girl into her chair, she gasped and pointed at Martha. Merlin reached out to steady himself against the railing when he saw his mentor, and one hand half lay atop Arthur's, but he didn't seem to notice.

"There is a man whispering in her ear!"

Martha paled and spun to face the judges, holding up her hands pleadingly, beseechingly, as they glared down upon her, "No, sir! I am innocent! Please!" She was crying now. "I have never had anything to do with witchcraft since the day I was born!" A sob. "I am a gospel women."

And Ann Putnam, Jr. called out across the courtroom with a shrieking shout, "Ah, she is a gospel witch!"

Merlin was now outright gripping Arthur's hand, so much force in the motion that Arthur felt his bones creak. He was searching the crowd below for Gaius as the people surged forward with the force of Ann's revelation, even as Arthur tugged on his hand and tried to lead him out. But only when Gaius glanced up, sensing the weight of Merlin's gaze, and nodded, did he allow himself to be brought outside, letting himself be led into a becoming-familiar ally.

It wasn't until they were outside that Merlin seemed to realize he was being dragged along by a firm grip on his hand, and with a twist, he tugged his hand loose. Arthur forced himself not to feel bereft at the loss of contact. From behind them there were continued shouts, by now they could tell the girls were naming more supposed witches in Salem. When a man ran out the front shouting it was loud enough that the pair could hear it.

"Dorcas Good is a witch!"

Arthur blanched. Dorcas was Sarah Good's daughter. She was only four-years-old. Were they really going to keep her in the prison with the rest of the accused? A loud thud startled him from his thoughts. When he turned he realized that Merlin, in a fit of anger, had punched the wall of the church. The building must be in disrepair indeed, because from where he stood Arthur could see the bricks crumbling off in flakes around Merlin's balled up fist.

"We have to _do_ something about this!"

For a moment, Arthur was taken aback by the vehemence in Merlin's voice. He had been under the impression that Merlin thought all of this was crazy and the best course of action was to keep your head down, since, it appeared, anyone could be arrested for charges of witchcraft. But now he was realizing that what he had previously taken for all fear, all panic, was instead also anger. Anger that this was happening to good people. Anger that the citizens were allowing this to happen to their neighbors, people they had known for literally their entire lives.

His eyes were practically shooting sparks as he turned a pleading look on Arthur. They were brimming with those golden flecks of sunshine Arthur only noticed at the strangest moments. He was almost vibrating with energy, it seemed to seep off of him like a tangible force, until Arthur couldn't tell whether he wanted to step away… to step closer…

Merlin spun and began to pace in the narrow space, long-legged stalking steps like a bristling tomcat. "We can't let this go on, Arthur, it's insanity! Sarah Good is _pregnant_ and they have her in a jail cell. Dorcas is four – _four_!" He reached up to run his hands through his wild hair and Arthur saw his knuckles were bleeding.

When Arthur stretched out to grab the injured hand, both to stop Merlin's pacing and to assess the injury, a sharp jolt of electric current shocked them at the contact. Merlin abruptly stopped his pacing, turning with his full height to glance down at Arthur, silent, observing, quiet... waiting.

Arthur felt his mouth fill suddenly, irrevocably with cotton at the scrutiny. Those eyes were glowing in the alley like blue lamps, watching Arthur expectantly, making no move now to pull his hand away from Arthur's grasp. When Arthur licked his dry lips, those vivid eyes narrowed in on the movement, making Arthur's statement come in a guttural, throaty voice.

"I'll help you." He swallowed, torn again between moving away or moving that half step closer to – to do what? "Of course I'll help you."


	6. Chapter 06 April 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,560  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

Merlin couldn't even imagine getting through the next few weeks without Arthur – though he feared things would only escalate as time continued. The town was fueled with terror, every villager feared their neighbor, their servant, their family members were emissaries of the Devil and were witches in disguise.

Gaius couldn't even tell Arthur if there _were_ any true witches in Salem, the community was very secretive, very interested in protecting their own heads. Healers, midwifes, doctors – even farmers – many practitioners hid themselves in these arts. But there was a skill in hiding your craft in plain sight. A physician who always had the strongest salves, a midwife with the easiest births, a farmer with the best crop. But it was hard to pinpoint magic from luck sometimes, and no one dared to open their mouths and admit their skill was otherworldly for fear of repercussion.

The young Pendragon was a steadfast companion to Merlin as he ranted and raved about the judges, the gossiping women, the young girls he was sure were faking, even the Reverend and his church for feeding the flames. It was a good thing Arthur also agreed the women weren't truly possessed, because if he believed the hype he would have had Merlin in irons by now.

Merlin couldn't even tell Arthur _why_ he was so upset at the happenings (baring the obvious that there were children and pregnant women in prison), just that he wanted it find a way to stop it. Without drawing attention to himself.

"Explain this to me again, Merlin." Arthur's home in Salem proper had become a sort of headquarters for them, since he lived alone. Now Arthur was on his couch, staring towards Merlin at where he sat at the kitchen table, frowning down at the papers strewn across its surface. "Why can't we protest this insanity outright?"

Merlin's tone was parental – an adult speaking to a child. "Because Arthur, speaking draws attention to you. Look at Sarah Cloyce – she hasn't done anything wrong, but she's in jail just because she defended Rebecca Nurse at her trial."

"Yes, but Gaius is well-respected so I can't imagine that – "

"So were the Proctors," Merlin muttered under his breath, and even Arthur had to fall silent at that observation, because there was no arguing with it.

John and Elizabeth Proctor were wealthy farmers who owned an orchard on the outskirts of town where almost all of the fruit for the villagers came from (Merlin had stolen oranges from their trees as a boy, as had many other children of the town). But 30 years ago Elizabeth's grandmother had been accused of witchcraft and, though acquitted, the stain had apparently never left the mind of the people. So Elizabeth was accused of visiting several of the young girls (their own servant Mary Warren one of them) in spirit form and tormenting them at night. And to make matters worse, when John Proctor declared he thought the girls were faking when he was brought in to testify at her examination, he was arrested, as well.

No one was safe.

"You've got me there," Arthur agreed, falling back onto the cushions with a hefty sigh, arms behind his head, one leg outstretched, the other akimbo over the back of couch.

Merlin felt like his eyes were drawn to the sight. Arthur was like a cat when he sprawled like that, all long-limbed and graceful, a predator in repose. When he breathed it revealed a small sliver of skin between his shirt and pants, an enticing glimpse to a part people always left covered. When Arthur gave another great sigh, Merlin snapped his gaze back to his face quickly, so as not to be caught staring.

"So what do we do?" He glanced at Merlin from across the length of his body, blue eyes shining. " _How_ do we do this?"

Merlin shrugged, leaning back in his chair, stretching out aching muscles. Was it just him imagination, or were those azure eyes watching him? When he glanced over he saw that, no, Arthur was looking at the ceiling, eyes thoughtful and distracted.

"We have to make them see that they are wrong somehow." Merlin made a forlorn sound.

"I've seen people try to change the minds of others, Merlin," Arthur said abruptly, "and it isn't easy." For a moment Merlin thought he was done speaking. "My father still will not speak to my sister, because she wanted to learn herbal lore, something he saw as beneath our family."

Merlin felt his eyes narrow in thoughtful consternation. He had never met Morgana, Arthur's sister, and Arthur only spoke about her rarely, but every time he did Merlin became more and more sure that his friend's wayward sister was hiding something. And he was pretty sure it was magic. But Arthur seemed to have no idea, so Merlin kept quiet.

"I'm not saying it will be easy to change their minds, but it might be possible."

There was a long beat of silence. "It's too bad we don't know someone with some real magic," Arthur said suddenly. "Then they could just poof in here and prove everyone what a real witch could do." He chuckled at his own joke.

Merlin choked back the words that wanted to tell Arthur that practitioners didn't _poof_ and what they could do was exactly what was happening, so that would probably cause more problems than solutions. But he might have an idea with creating a distraction…

"Well I don't know where we can get one of those," he mused, "but maybe we could fake it."

Arthur looked flummoxed, but he was sitting up, and staring at Merlin intently.

"Like we could leave signs that show another witch it angry being overlooked or something?" Merlin started rifling through the table, looking for an empty piece of paper to write on. "And we could make it sound like the witch was angry at the girls for faking their possessions. And we could – "

"We could make everything worse."

Merlin froze, hands settling slowly back atop his notes. "Yes," he said slowly, "yes, I suppose we could." He has rubbing at his eyes tiredly before he noticed.

Without warning, he felt hands on his shoulders, rubbing away the tension and ache with steady, even kneads. Merlin's hands fell back to the table with a thud, even as he head fell forward on a groan. The fingers massaging him stilled for a moment, a subtle tremble in them vibrating against Merlin's skin.

"Come on, Merlin." Was Arthur's voice shaking, just a little? "We'll be late to the examination."

* * *

Out of the four people being examined by Hathorne and Corwin, Merlin was the most intrigued by Bridget Bishop's case. She owned an apple orchard, and had been married several times. Gaius had told Merlin of the death of her first husband, barely a year after they wed, leaving her his entire estate. His death had been sudden, unexpected, and Gaius had not been able to find a single reason for it. It was simply as if the man had been living one moment, and dead the next. Most of the village thought she killed him, it was whispered about down the rumor mill constantly, even to this day. Now, with witchcraft being on the table, people were beginning to think she had enchanted her first husband to death.

Watching her trial was like watching a who's who of Salem recall grievances decades old. No less than ten people confessed against her – all with compelling evidence that placed Mrs. Bishop at the wrong place at the wrong time.

 _Either that or she really is a witch_ , Merlin thought, watching her on the stand through narrowed eyes. If she was a witch than she was superb actress. And if she wasn't, well, she was probably the unluckiest person in all of Salem. Merlin caught Gaius' eye from where he stood with the other witnesses, and arched a questioning brow at Bishop. But Gaius merely gave a half shrug and shook his head.

Giles Corey was only on trial because of his horrid past of beating a farmhand to death and possibly because of John Proctor's significant role in testifying against him in that case. Any connection these days to an accused witch could easily be a sentence for you. No love was lost on him since he'd also allowed his own wife to be arrested weeks ago.

The young servant girl of the Proctor household, Mary Warren, had also been named a witch by the village girls. But Merlin would bet money on her being a fake. She had been having fits and convulsions for weeks, before declaring both of her employers witches. Then suddenly her fits ceased, just as swiftly as they had started. She'd made several comments hinting that they had all been playing a game. Immediately afterwards several other girls suddenly glimpsed her spectral form attacking them at night. Merlin wasn't an idiot, the entire village knew Mary had been harboring a fierce, but unrequited, love for John Proctor (unrequited since he was over 40 years her senior), but young girls did foolish things to gain attention.

The most innocuous of all the charged was Abigail Hobbs, a young, perfectly ordinary young girl, who wouldn't have even been in Merlin's top 50 list of potential witches. She was demure and quiet on the stand, a perfect model of Puritan ideals.

But none of those things mattered a single bit when she confessed to being a witch.


	7. Chapter 07 May 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,567  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

The pair of them are sitting in Merlin's garden when Gaius returns from the town, he is fuming and irate and Merlin sends Arthur a side-eyed glance of wry distaste before climbing to his feet to follow his mentor inside. Arthur noticeably does not watch those long limbs untangle themselves, does not watch that tall form tower over him, does not let his hand linger when Merlin helps him to his feet. He had not been raised in a strict Puritan village, but his father would burn him alive if he knew where Arthur's daydreams took him.

"Gaius?"

The elderly man was muttering angrily to himself, slamming things down on the counter as he pulled them from his bag. Arthur bent to pick up a piece of fruit as it rolled off the table and handed gently placed it back. Gaius glanced up and when he noticed Arthur standing there his eyes immediately swept around the room, before settling back on him. It was something Arthur was used to but still confused by.

"Ah, Arthur, here again," he stared pointedly at Merlin as it said it, but because Merlin tilted his face upwards Arthur couldn't fathom his expression.

"Gaius, what is the matter?" Merlin asked deliberately, too loudly to be an accident. "Has something else happened?"

At the question, Gaius immediately slumped into a stool. "Yes, my boy, unfortunately it has." He sighed. "George Burroughs was accused of witchcraft."

"The Harvard graduate?" Arthur asked directly on top of Merlin exclaiming, "But he doesn't even live here!"

Gaius was nodding in answer to both. "Yes, but I'm afraid young Miss Mercy Lewis, whom he saved from a raid years ago has started making claims. And all the other girls are following suit."

"Arthur and I have been working on a way to fix everything, Gaius." When his teacher raised an eyebrow, Merlin continued, "No, no, no, it's full proof! We're going to create some distractions, lead them away from the villagers – make it look like the _witches_ ," he spit the word out, "are coming from somewhere else –"

"Boy we both know that's not going to work. You'll just wind up forcing those girls to start randomly selecting people as witches instead of people their families are somehow connected with."

"Well luckily none of those girls is really connected with us, and you're not the only physician in town so they can't accuse you just because of that – "

"Merlin they arrested four more women today." Gaius paused, letting Merlin's mouth close. "Susannah Martin was one of them."

Arthur had absolutely no idea who that was, but the sound of the name made Merlin's already pale skin blanch. With some sense of alarm, though he didn't know why, he watched as Merlin ushered Gaius away from his worktable and into his room, shoving a cup of tea into his hands, telling him to relax, to not think about it, telling him that he and Arthur would fix it.

When he returned, Arthur was awkwardly standing alone in the kitchen, idly crushing a few mint leaves in his between his fingers. He raised a questioning brow when Merlin returned and leaned against the wall, staring.

"Susannah is a widow. She and Gaius are… were…" He fumbled, searching for the right word. "They were… together at one time. He testified for her when she was accused of witchcraft several years ago and then sent her away when she was acquitted." He pressed his lips together tightly, turning them into thin, white lines. "If people remember Gaius' connection to her, he might not be safe…"

"Hey, it'll be fine." Without realizing what he was doing, Arthur had walked across the room and grabbed Merlin's shoulder in a tight hand, meeting those intelligent eyes when they raised to his, startled into silence. "I promised to help you." He smiled, grin widening and stomach summersaulting when Merlin gave a hesitant smile in return. "And a Pendragon never breaks a promise."

* * *

The next few days passed in the same manner as the last few weeks. Arthur and Merlin met every day to discuss not only what had been happening in the village, but ways to prevent it. But there were always reasons why a plan wouldn't work, always reasons to start over. And every failed plan they came up with meant more innocent people in prison.

"This witchcraft paranoia is becoming excessive."

Merlin glancing up at him, bringing his focus away from the calming tea he was brewing, to focus on his comrade. "So, you don't think any of these people are real witches?"

Arthur snorted. "And you do?"

He received a shrug in reply. "I admit I find it hard to believe that torture isn't involved when someone like Margaret Jacobs suddenly confesses and then testifies that both her father and grandfather are witches, too, but…" He trailed off and Arthur waited patiently for him to continue. "But some of the accused I would wonder about…"

"You believe in magic?"

When those bright eyes focused on him with such hawk-like intensity, Arthur found it hard to breathe, found it very easy to believe, for a moment, that he was under a spell. "You don't?"

"I – " Then Merlin blinks the spell in broken. Arthur looks away and clears his throat. "Anyway, we still need to come up with a plan. Father wrote saying they were appointing a new governor who's coming into Salem next week. William something or other." He turned to face Merlin again. "Maybe we can speak to him."

* * *

That plan seemed like a fantastic idea, but for one small problem they hadn't thought of: Sir William Phips was all for the prosecution of witches. By the time Arthur and Merlin had a meeting with him (thanks in large part to the Pendragon name and in no small part to Merlin knocking over a vase of flowers in the parlor), Phips had already set up a court whose only purpose was witch trials. He'd even appointed half a dozen judges, including Hathorne and Corwin who now only tried witchcraft cases. In other words, he'd taken a small town's paranoia and given it the official seal of the governor. The witchcraft trials were now officially sanctioned.

The pair of them could feel the zeal growing – it gave people a sense of righteousness about what they were doing, that it was the work of God and country. They were watching now as Mary Easty, who'd been released from prison a few scant days before the creation of the new court, was dragged, kicking and screaming, back to the courthouse jail. Several people had petitioned the judges for her re-arrest and now they had the power to do that.

"See, do I think Mary is a witch?" Merlin was asking himself rhetorically. "No. But do I think John Aldan over there might be?" He gestured at the crowd and Arthur felt his eyes drawn to the tall, dark man with the intense eyes and the fidgeting hands. "Yes, I sort of do."

* * *

One week later and Arthur was hurrying towards Merlin's house, itching to tell him that John Aldan had been arrested with the latest batch of accused and it had not been an easy arrest. It had taken six officers to subdue him and even then Arthur had the impression he was just going with them because he felt like it.

When he arrived at Merlin's house, the first thing he noticed was loud crashes, so he opened the door hesitantly – and froze. He looked around in shock, stepping lightly over broken shards of glass, "Merlin?" A loud smash was his answer, so he followed the noise. He found Merlin in the common area, another glass in his hands poised to hurl at the wall. "Merlin?"

When he spun around, Arthur gasped. Merlin's face was wretched with despair, tear-tracked and wrecked. His eyes were lit like lamps, glossy and glowing with golden flecks. "Arthur…" His voice was choked and full with emotion. "They arrested Gaius."

 _Oh, shit_. "Merlin, I'm sorry," he took a few steps closer. "We'll help him, we'll get him out – "

"He's all I have, Arthur and they took him from me!" The glass in his hands shattered against a nearby wall. "I have _no one_ left!"

"You have me."

Merlin stopped his ranting abruptly, mouth snapping closed, staring. Arthur, for his part, was just as surprised at what he had said. He hadn't meant to, it had just… come out… He'd only wanted Merlin to stop yelling, to stop being upset, to let him know that Arthur was here for him, too.

"What?

"I – " But what else could he say? That he hadn't meant it? He had. That he hadn't meant to say it out loud? He wasn't sure that was true. "I'm here for you."

And it was nothing to take a few more steps, lean forward, and press his lips to Merlin's.


	8. Chapter 08 June 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,524  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

Arthur was kissing him. Arthur was kissing _him_. _Kissing_ him.

For several long moments Merlin stood frozen, hands half extended towards him, eyes wide, mouth still pressed together, just lips on lips. He only came back to himself when Arthur started to pull away and Merlin saw the tense, embarrassed look on his face.

So Merlin pulled him back. And this time, when he slanted his mouth over Arthur's, he wasn't still.

Where Merlin was raised, physical affection was given freely. Unlike how to Salem villagers and reverends and judges believed, pagans were not devil worshippers, they did not practice dark magic or sacrifices or promote evil. If they worshipped anything it was the Earth, if they practiced anything it was healing, if they promoted anything it was love. Affection and the love between people was no different. For Merlin's people, love was the ultimate form of worship – the ultimate way to send good vibrations into the universe. Gaius had been one of the people to teach him the benefits of love over hate, how actions all have consequences. He would not have approved of Merlin's temper tantrum over his arrest.

Merlin knew that other people, most people, were different than pagans. Most religious did not sanctify love between like genders – seeing it, like witchcraft, as something evil and dark, something to be hated and destroyed. A sin.

So as thrilled as he was that Arthur was kissing him, he knew that for Arthur, it was so much more. Something that went completely beyond his way of life, how he was raised. It was one thing not to belief several young girls were possessed, it was an entirely different thing to make a choice.

So Merlin wasn't going to give him any reason to doubt this choice.

Reaching up to place a light hand on Arthur's jaw, he exerted just enough pressure to open that hesitant mouth and sweep his tongue in. When Arthur's taste of mint and tea and lemon assaulted him, he groaned. At the sound, Arthur trembled just slightly and Merlin quirked his lips in a smile.

When Arthur felt the motion, he frowned and leaned back, breaking the contact. "And what is so funny?" When his voice quavered at the end, Merlin's smile widened, and he ran his hand from jawline down the pale column of throat, Adam's apple bobbing with a nervous swallow. "What?"

"You are." Merlin leaned down a pressed a kiss to Arthur's nose. "You've never kissed a man before, have you?" He kissed, first one cheek, then the other, as Arthur sputtered indignantly. "Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

"Well of course I have!" He was struggling away, but Merlin was holding him close. "Why would you even suggest such a thing – mmph!"

Merlin pressed him mouth down against Arthur's again, cutting off his complaint. When Arthur stubbornly didn't open his mouth, Merlin nipped at the corner and, on the gasp, swept in. His hands roamed – one dragging blunt nails down the scalp, fisting and pulling at blond hair; one sliding down the lean torso to grasp the fabric on shirt near the hem of pants, knuckles rubbing skin enticingly.

When Arthur's own hands reached up to fist frantically on Merlin's jacket, Merlin spun took several steps back, pushing Arthur into the nearest wall, making him an immovable object that he could lean against. When Merlin pressed his weight into Arthur, using his height to make Arthur lean up into their kiss, bodies crowded together from mouth to knee, Arthur gave a keening cry directly into Merlin's mouth.

At the sound, Merlin pulled away, removing the contact. He panted harshly, catching his breath, drinking in the sight of a disheveled and flushed Arthur, eyes glassy, pupils blown with lust. "Because a man's who's been kissed before has better control."

Merlin ducked away laughing when Arthur hurled a book at his head.

* * *

They didn't speak of their moment for a long time. Not from embarrassment, well, at least not on Merlin's part. For Merlin, they were both consenting adults, and they weren't going to parade their affection in front of the close-minded religious followers in town, so what they did behind closed doors shouldn't be a problem. But the immediate few days were filled with Gaius' examination, and his removal to prison. The prisons were crowding over with accused witches. All of whom had been tried and examined, but not a single one who had been sentenced.

Then, scant days later, Bridget Bishop was accused, examined, and immediately sentenced to death.

* * *

Gallows Hill was a dismal mound on the outskirts of town. The scaffold had been hastily put together over the course of a single day by overenthusiastic, but rushed villagers. It leaned to the left, and creaked every time the wind blew by.

When they brought Bridget, sobbing and crying up the hill, the people of Salem booed and hissed, some threw tomatoes and greens, others shouted passages from the bible. A few, a very few, prayed or cried. Bridget's family, most likely.

Arthur and Merlin stood in the background, only there because they both felt Bridget deserved to have someone there for her that _didn't_ think she was a witch, that didn't think she deserved to die. While the Reverend said a prayer for her soul that basically condemned her as a sinner, Merlin softly uttered a prayer that was just for her. May God welcome her with open arms in his Kingdom.

"Amen."

And when the hangman yanked back on his lever and Bridget's support vanished from under her, Arthur pressed his face into Merlin's shoulder and Merlin closed his eyes tight and pressed his own face into that golden hair. And they stood there until the crowd had departed.

* * *

"We have to go see Gaius." Arthur turned his head, but Merlin staring off into space. He turned and pinned Arthur with his stare. "Do you think you can get me in there?"

A blink. "They won't let you in?" Another blink. "But… you're family…"

But he was already shaking his head. "No, we're not blood related, so the guards say I'm not allowed entry."

Arthur was frowning, a furrow forming between his brows. "Yeah, I think I could get you in. You want to go now?" They weren't far from the courthouse – it would only take a few minutes to get there.

"Yeah, let's go." Merlin grabbed his jacket and fell into step beside Arthur, walking in compatible silence the few blocks, hands brushing with every swish of arms. It was easy and natural, walking beside Arthur – it felt familiar, but also new and exciting. It was easy, being with him, one moment snarking and sarcastic, the next personal and understanding. He was uneasy being the center of attention needlessly, but easily able to assert his dominance (such as when he demanded the pair of them be allowed entry into the cells). _It was… pretty sexy when he did that_ , Merlin thought, glancing askance at his friend.

But then they were standing before the jail cells and he only had eyes for Gaius. The cell he was in was filled to capacity with accused. There were several dozen people, at least, crammed in. they were huddling on the floor together for warmth. Too tired and week to cry.

"Gaius!"

The man in question lurched upwards at the sound of his name, reaching through the bars to grip Merlin's hand tightly in his. "Merlin, my boy! How did you get in here?"

"Arthur." Gaius inclined his head gratefully at him. "Gaius, how are you?" He looked around. "It looks… terrible in here."

Gaius slumped in misery. "The people here are failing. They don't get enough food or water, they are freezing." His eyes were despondent. "Roger died last week from the cold." Merlin and Arthur both made placating, sorrowful replies. "And I know five more women were condemned to death," he gestured at the huddle of women in the corner. Merlin recognized Gaius' friend Susannah and felt his heart clench in sympathy.

"Gaius, I'm – " But the words were cut off when Gaius reached out and grabbed Merlin by the shirt, yanking him close to the bars, so they were face-to-face.

"Merlin, listen to me," though the words were harshly whispered, Merlin wondered if Arthur could hear them, the cells were quiet but for muffled sobs and breathing. "You have to be careful!"

"I will, Gaius, please," he was tugging ineffectually at his mentor, "be quiet – "

"No! You must listen! They could come for you next!" And then, much to Merlin's surprise, he reached out his other hand to grasp Arthur by the wrist. "You must protect him!"


	9. Chapter 09 July 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,763  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

With another gut-wrenching heave, Arthur emptied the remaining contents of his stomach out on the ground, leaning over the brace his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He panted, staring down, but eyes unseeing as he fought to forget what he had just witnessed.

Though he couldn't see him, he could sense Merlin just behind him and a moment later he felt the firm, sure touch as he slid a hand up Arthur's spine.

"Alright?"

Arthur spit, trying to remove the taste of vomit from his mouth and straightened shakily. "No," he answered, turning, noting the dry tear tracks on Merlin's cheeks, "but I'll live, I suppose."

Merlin nodded, taking a deep, calming breath, and Arthur had to wonder at just how composed he looked. If it weren't for the visible sign of tears, Arthur would think he was fine. His brow furrowed in a contemplative frown.

"You seem to be handling this better than I am." If he sounded sullen and petulant he chose to ignore it.

Merlin pursed his lips, even as he helped Arthur return to the road. "Gaius has told me stories of witch hunts before and…" He stopped abruptly, so suddenly that Arthur crashed into his shoulder with a muffled cry. He didn't even have time to voice his complaint before Merlin turned to him and the look in his eye stilled the words before they came. He looked – nervous, distrustful, wary. Of Arthur. "And… my mother… well I tell people she died in a raid. But really… really she was accused of witchcraft. When I left my home afterwards, that's how I wound up in Salem."

A blink. "Oh. What was..." Arthur swallowed, not really knowing how to phrase the question. "What was she doing?"

"She was a very good midwife, Arthur. She never lost a single patient, not ever."

"And is she still – "

"Alive? No." Merlin gave him a long hard look, those eyes still wary, but now also very, very sad. "They burned her."

Arthur blanched, feeling the bile rise in his stomach all over again. Had he been there? Had he watched his own mother burn at the stake? All for bringing babies into the world? Had he watched her die screaming, turning into ashes and dust?

This afternoon, they had seen the hangings of five women, including Susannah Martin and Rebecca Nurse, two women who were easily old enough to be Arthur's grandmother, and Arthur had thought it was the worst thing he had ever seen. There were many family members there, hysterically crying, and the sound of mourning women and the sight of those innocent people hanging from the Gallows, was something Arthur wanted to never relive or see again.

But to watch your own mother die by fire…

"Merlin…" he reached out – To what? Grasp his shoulder? Brush away his tears? Take his hand? – and fell silent, unsure. Gaius had asked him to protect his boy, but how – how could he do that when his demons were in the past –

A sad smile, and Arthur felt something in his chest break for this beautiful boy. "It was a long time ago, Arthur. It's alright. But you see why I want so badly to stop this."

Though he itched to reach out and take Merlin's hand, there were too many people who could potentially see, and he forced himself to lower it. "Yes, and I think I have an idea."

* * *

The guards stationed at the courthouse jail were noticeably irritated when Arthur demanded they be let in to see Gaius. They fidgeted, glanced sideways at one another, muttered excuses as to why they couldn't allow them in.

" _Sleeping_?! What do you mean he's sleeping?" Arthur was indignant with pride. "He'll have plenty of time to do that after we leave – _he's in prison_!"

"Yes, but, um, sir –"

"No! I don't care! I'm going in, and _he_ ," he jerked a thumb behind him at an insolently grinning Merlin, "is coming with me." Arthur tilted his head back, looking down his nose of the two stuttering men. "Or do I have to force my way through."

One look at Arthur's slim and toned physic, the lazy elegance cat-like way he moved, and the two guards hastily stood aside, shaking their heads in denial.

They'd only made it a few brief steps into the interior, before Arthur heard a snort of amusement. When he snapped his head to the side to glare at Merlin, he met a pair of eyes bright with mirth, and felt his anger and irritation at the guards cooling. "You know, you're pretty sexy when you act like that." Merlin's pupils were dilated, even in the dark, with the beginnings of lust.

And Arthur felt a new feeling begin to swirl in his gut, something simmering and hot, that curled low and deep within him. It made him want to arch and writhe into the boy beside him, made his knees want to press together to relieve an ache he'd never noticed before, made those same knees want to fall open so he could feel someone press in between them. He hadn't even noticed he made a noise until Merlin grasped him roughly by shoulder and cut off the sound with his mouth.

The whimper he'd uttered turned into a full body groan as Merlin seemed to read his mind – pressing him back into a wall and shoving his knee in between Arthur's legs, pressing, pressing, _pressing_ a hard thigh against the very place that Arthur needed. His fingers frantically grabbed Merlin's shirt, looking for something to hold on to. "Ah… ah… ah…" Arthur was making panting little cries with every rock of Merlin's body, sounds that would have embarrassed him had he been in his right mind.

But he couldn't think, not with the pleasure coursing through him, not when Merlin was speaking low and soothing under his breathe. Saying things like, "Yes, so good, so beautiful, so perfect, yes, _mine_ ," and groaning deep and masculine in the back of his throat like a lion in heat.

A load crash from farther down the hall, pulled them apart, slammed awareness of their location back into them like a meteor crash. They panted harshly into one another's mouths. Arthur, for a long moment, couldn't see past the glossy haze of desire clouding his vision, but when his site cleared the first thing he saw was a pair of eyes, pupils blown wide, blue dotted with flecks of gold.

"Maybe…" Arthur was pleased to see Merlin swallow harshly. "Maybe we should save this for later."

As they hastily straightened themselves, Arthur's heart sang with the word _later_. But the feeling left just as quickly as it came when they rounded the last corner and came within sight of the cells.

"Gaius!"

Merlin hastened to the bars, dropping his bag without a care, falling to his knees beside the huddled figure of his mentor. Arthur followed more sedately, snatching up Merlin's bag (filled with food and water for the prisoners) as he went. Gaius was a mess. Both his eyes were blackened, his nose clearly broken, crusted with dried blood. He was holding one arm awkwardly to his chest, and was taking in wheezing gulps of air that rattled ominously in the damp air.

"What have they done to you?" Merlin's voice was cracking with emotion.

"They've tortured you." Arthur's voice was flat and blunt, and Merlin turned to glare at his lack of tact. Arthur returned his look impassively.

"Yes, that's clear enough." Gaius voice was hoarse and cracked. "But I've been through worse, my boy."

Arthur frowned, glancing at Merlin for elaboration, but the boy had eyes only for Gaius – snatching the bag from Arthur's hands and beginning to distribute the supplies to the eager prisoners. "I'm sorry I didn't bring much medicine, I wasn't aware you'd need it." The last part was muttered angrily under his breath. "I'll bring some back tomorrow." When everything had been passed around, Merlin leaned back on his heels. "Now, Arthur has come up with a plan."

Taking that as his cue to step forward. "I wish to bring a letter to the clergy in Boston, describing what it happening here and how it has gotten swiftly out of control. Potentially I'd like for them to consider moving the trials there, to Boston, to be administered until those who are… less zealous."

Gaius was nodding. "That is a sound plan, my boy, but why – "

"My name in means nothing to the clergy in Boston, it will carry no weight. But if something well-known and respected in the area, say John Proctor, were to pen the complaint…"

"It might mean more to the Bostonians," Gaius finished. "Yes, that might work – John!" Proctor ambled over, licking sticky orange remains from his fingers, and listened intently as Arthur's plan was laid out. Before Gaius was through speaking, he was already nodding in agreement.

"Yes, yes, you have pen and paper?" When Merlin handed him the items, he began to write in a flourished, even scrawl, filling an entire two pages before folding it in half and passing it back through the bars.

"We plan on leaving tonight – " But Arthur trailed off when he noticed Merlin shaking his head slowly.

"Arthur I can't leave him here like this," he said softly, standing up and pulling them back towards the rear of the room, where the shadows offered them some privacy. "I must help them, do what I can."

"But, the guards, how will you – "

"I'll figure something out, Arthur. But… you must go without me."

Arthur's heart seized even at the thought of leaving Merlin behind, here in this town with these people, anyone who at any moment could declare Merlin a witch and have him imprisoned. He could be sent to the Gallows…

With a swift move, he yanked Merlin forward, kissing him harshly, with a clacking of teeth and a twisting of tongues, before, just as quickly, letting him go. He pressed his forward to Merlin's. "I will be back." Another kiss, softer, lighter. "Be careful."


	10. Chapter 10 August 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,590  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

Without Arthur by his side, the next few days (and the next month, he had been sure) was going to pass extremely slowly – especially since his memory was now joyfully reminding of the way Arthur tasted, the way the hard length of his body felt, the way he sounded when he was undone. It was almost enough to distract him from his terror and sorrow over Gaius' arrest.

But now he had his mentor's torture to deal with, and that was consuming so much of his time it was hard to think about anything else. It seemed every time he managed to sneak past the guards (usually achieved by spiking their drinks with a sedative with some quick sleight-of-hand), there were more injuries to tally up. One day another set of broken ribs. A few days later a tooth knocked loose. Without magic to heal him, Gaius was just another elderly man – and he wasn't taking well to such treatment.

"You have to stop sneaking in here, my boy, the guards are going to get suspicious." Gaius finished his statement with a hacking cough, bloody spittle flying from his mouth.

Merlin frowned, wordlessly handing him a flask of water through the bars, glaring at him until he drank several greedy gulps. Only then did Merlin glance away, letting him pass the flask to the others who were watching with wide, dry eyes. "I'll be fine, Gaius. It's you I'm worried about."

When he glanced around the cells again, his heart clenched and his stomach dropped. The people here were failing, some had been here for months, women had been pregnant when imprisoned had given birth in here, men had died in here in these conditions. It was dark and dark and mildew-filled. The dim light was a blessing that hid the quality of the dirty walls and floors from prisoner's eyes, but Merlin could see those things just fine. He could see the roaches scurrying in the open spaces, the rats lurking in the cracks in the walls. He could see mushrooms growing sparsely from moist seams. He could see broken arms and noses, bruises and cuts, shorn hair. He could count the ribs underneath their clothing, could see their lips crack and bleed, hear their stomachs rumble. He could see in their eyes that they thought they would die here.

"Six more people were condemned to death, Gaius." His voice was filled with despair. "Everything is getting worse. And Arthur – " his breath hitched at the name, "if Arthur doesn't make it back soon, I don't think anything will stop this madness."

His mentor reached through the bar and grasped Merlin's hands, his weathered hands thin – just tendon and bone covered in skin – but still steady, his grip still strong despite his hardship. "You must believe, Merlin. Believe in Arthur and in yourself." He gestured around at the dead-eyed inhabitants of the jail. "That is the only way you will help us."

Merlin glanced around, only pausing when he noticed one man was staring steadily back at him. He looked resolute and defiant, rather than lost and broken. Merlin felt his head cock to the side as he tried to place him. "You're John Aldan."

The dark-haired man nodded, his hazel eyes composed and intelligent. "Yes, one of the recently condemned." Merlin's eyes must have betrayed his feelings, because Aldan waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, no, boy, none of that. It will all work out, I'm sure." He was staring at Merlin in a way that made the young man want to fidget uncomfortably. "I'm fairly sure it will."

"Hey, you there! How did you get in here?!"

Merlin's head snapped around at the shout, meeting the sleep tousled countenance of one of the guards he'd slipped by earlier. "I – uh – "

"Come on, you!"

The guard grabbed his arm roughly and was hauling him to his feet when he felt himself yanked in the other direction so swiftly he fell into the bars. The guard made a muffled oath behind him, but Merlin was too focused on the face of John Aldan, now pressed close enough that there were breathing the same air, his eyes lit with emotion.

"Listen, boy," he hissed, too low for anyone but Merlin himself to hear. "I know what you are." When Merlin would have let the guard's movements pull him backwards, Aldan yanked him forward, grip viselike and firm. "I _know_ , and I need you to get me out of here. I can help them all."

When Aldan released Merlin's hand, the force of the guard's own tugging sent him reeling backwards. But he hardly noticed. Just like he hardly noticed the guard gripping his arm and dragging him from the prison. He was too focused on how John Aldan was watching him intently, eyes never straying, never blinking, as he left.

* * *

Two weeks later and Merlin was frantic with worry. Arthur still hadn't returned from Boston, and it was only one day until the hangings of the six condemned inmates. He still hadn't managed to find a way to help Aldan escape without drawing attention to those already arrested or himself.

With an irritated scream he allowed a small tendril of power to unfurl, shattering his glass of water. The momentary feeling of triumph soon made way for remorse at his actions. Though his was safely ensconced in his house, it was a terrible habit to acquire. Cleaning up the mess and glumly sitting back on his heels, Merlin stared with unseeing eyes at his counter. There had to be a way to help Aldan without anyone noticing.

A sigh. If only Arthur were here, he'd be able to get Aldan out, Merlin was sure, without resorting to anything untoward or illegal.

Suddenly, blue eyes brightened with an idea. It'd be dangerous, and would require a very precise level of timing that Merlin was sure wouldn't be easy to accomplish at a crowded town hanging, but as of right now, it was the only option he had.

* * *

Gallows Hill was filled with people, as Merlin knew it would be. Six people were going to be hanged, and there were people from Salem's sister-villages in attendance to watch the spectacle. People had brought their entire families with them to watch, even their children. It was disgusting. Merlin was watching the gathering from a copse of nearby trees, hidden in the foliage, eyes alert and focused. He hadn't had time to actually speak to Aldan, to tell him of his plan. He'd barely had time to catch his eye for a moment as they were moving the condemned into the wagon that would transport them to the execution site, nodding once. He hoped Aldan understood.

It was almost sunset now, the Reverend and judges seem to like the symbolism of hanging people in the twilight air – the hot August days now were thick and heavy at dusk, the wind like an oppressive blanket as it swirled through the crowd. People were slick with sweat, but whether from heat or fear it was hard to tell.

When the guilty were shoved off the wagon, hands tied with rope in front of him, eyes tear-filled and doomed, Merlin felt his heart break. It would be too much to save them all, too noticeable, too obvious. He wanted to make Aldan's escape seem like an accident. But six accused witched escaping at death's door was bound to be seen as the work of the Devil. And Merlin couldn't risk the wrath of the judges coming down on the dozens and dozens of other innocent people still stuck, scared and miserable, in their cells.

He watched avidly as they were lined up on the gallows, as the nooses were placed over their necks and tightened, as the hangman walked sedately back to this place to the side of them. He wasn't watching the crowd to see their reactions. He wasn't watching the condemned to see their fears. He wasn't watching anything but the hangman's hand as it reached for the lever –

\- as soon as it was pulled, and six pairs of legs vanished under the prisoners, Merlin let loose an arrow of energy. Six people fell. Only five met sudden stops – John Aldan's rope broke with a snap as his weight yanked down on it. He hit the ground, hands coming miraculously untied as he rolled out the back of the gallows. The crowd, executioner, and judges were all so focused on his comrades, they didn't notice for several long moments.

In those moments Aldan stood, disoriented and unsteady, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. When he didn't move fast enough, Merlin cracked a ribbon of power across his backside. With a jerk he realized where he was, and, as the shout of the villagers suddenly noticing his absence followed him, he bolted off in the opposite direction.

Merlin sighed, leaning back on his haunches, slack with relief.

"Hey mister, what are you – " A small hand grabbed his elbow and he spun around in shock. The little girl who'd found him glanced up. And before he even had time to remember that his eyes were still lit with magic and shining like sunflowers, she met his eyes -

\- and started to scream.


	11. Chapter 11 September 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 2,655  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

When Arthur finally returned, travel worn and weary, eyes bloodshot and tired, legs shaking with exhaustion and only sheer force of will keeping him standing, the first thing he did was march to Merlin's house. He needed to tell him what had happened in Boston. That there was no way they were going to move the witchcraft trials there. Boston saw their little problem as a small-town issue, something to miniscule for a big city to bother dealing with. There were not going to help.

Though it was sunset, there were no lamps lit in Merlin's house. It was dark and quiet. So great was Arthur's faith in Merlin, so overpowering was his desire to see him, that not once, did Arthur think that maybe something was wrong. He assumed he was visiting Gaius (barring he was still alright) or gathering herbs or on a house call. It wouldn't be the first time Merlin had bolted out of the house, door unlocked, no note, and come back after sunset, sheepish and adorable.

But the house was dusty with disuse, houseplants brown and drooping, herbs brittle and dead. The air smelled musty and old. But Arthur was delirious with fatigue. All he knew was that he wanted to speak to Merlin and that he wasn't here now. His mind only told him to wait. So he climbed a rickety staircase to where he knew Merlin's bedroom was, took a few wobbly steps into the room, and collapsed face-first onto the bed.

* * *

When he woke, it took him many long moments to fully regain his consciousness. He wanted to sink into the mattress beneath him, wanted to roll in the blankets, and press his face into the pillow. It smelling like cinnamon and cloves and sunshine – like summer on sheets. It smelled like Merlin.

It was that thought that finally made Arthur blink his eyes open, squinting harshly in the afternoon light. Had Merlin come back last night, and simply let him sleep? He hadn't heard anyone, but he was deeply slumbering. And he would not… he would not have turned Merlin away if he had wanted to crawl into his own bed.

But the house was silent as an empty church. When Arthur rose and wandered room to room, he realized that there really was no one here. And, looking with a more alert eye, there _hadn't been_ anyone here for a very long time. A knot began to form in the pit of his stomach, growing tighter and tighter with every dusty, empty room he looked in. When he'd checked every room, every corner, he came to a halt in the kitchen, unsure for the first time in his life. He knew where he should go look, but he couldn't bring himself to imagine it – that Merlin was one of the accused. That Merlin could be being _beaten_ and _tortured_.

Arthur felt his stomach roll and forced down the bile, fighting his nausea at the thought.

He must go to the prison, find Merlin, if he was there, and find a way to free him. There was no other action he could take besides that. He wanted to stop these trials, but he needed Merlin to do that. He needed Merlin, in general. And he would not lose him this way.

* * *

The town was rife with activity. More people than Arthur had seen out in the streets since this hysteria began. But, looking closer, they were not the same gentile, provincial villagers of the Salem of a few years ago. They were weeping women who clutched their children to their skirts protectively, shifty eyed men who watched every pedestrian with distrust and venom. Pastors and nuns preached sermons and shouted prayers. Everyone clutched a cross to their chest or a Bible in their hands.

Arthur walked purposefully up the guards, shrugging into his haughty persona like a cloak. "Is there a Merlin Emrys in residence here?"

One guard snorted loudly. " _In residence?_ " His fellow was guffawing loudly. "This isn't the Salem Inn, _boy_ , in case you noticed."

" _Boy_?" Arthur drew his shoulders back, straightening to his full height, glaring daggers down his nose at that man. "Have you any idea who I am –"

"Did you say you were looking for Merlin?" When Arthur snapped around, he had to slant his eyes down, down, down, to meet the hazel eyed gaze of a small girl, maybe seven or eight. "What are you looking for the witch-boy for?"

"I – " Wait... A startled blink. "Witch-boy?"

The girl was nodding, pleased at having his undivided attention. "Yes, sir. They caught him at the last hangings. Mr. Aldan escaped and Merlin was the one to do it using the magic the Devil gave him!"

For a long moment, Arthur gaped at her like a fish. "And what," he cleared his throat, trying to take control of the situation. "And what makes you so sure it was Merlin who helped him?"

"I caught him doing it!"

" _What?_ "

"Yes, sir! His eyes were glowing gold like Devil's fire!"

Arthur frowned, brow furrowing, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the judges condemned a man because a seven year old saw gold in the eyes of someone who's eyes were dusted with saffron. "Ah, I see. I'll be sure to be careful when I speak to him then." He tried to smile reassuringly at her. "Thank you for the warning." When she scampered off down the street he rose back to his towering height and glared at the guards. "Now where was I?"

"No one is allowed in, boy."

"If you do not allow me entry of your own free will, I assure you, peasant, I will rend you limb from limb with my bare hands. Now _let me pass_." His tone broke no argument and the look in his eyes was enough to send both men scrambling to the side, making way for him. Arthur nodded once to each of them in turn. "A wise move."

The door was just swinging shut behind him when one of them called out, "God have mercy on your soul boy, that the Devil down there don't kill you."

When the door clicked softly closed behind him, Arthur let the breath whoosh out of him in an uneven rush. What in the world had Merlin gotten himself into while he was gone? His strides down the hall were long and purposeful, his excitement at seeing Merlin and his worry over what he would find tugging his heart in two different directions. Stepping from the narrow hall into the wide room at the end, Arthur swept his gaze over the crowded cell. There were even more than before. Dozens and dozens of them. Several were crying so raggedly that they were almost choking, lungs not getting enough air in between each racking sob. But he did not see Merlin…

Not until his eyes stuttered from one cell to the blank wall next to it.

Only it wasn't blank. It was partitioned off from the rest of the inmates, invisible to their view. For all they knew there was nothing on the other side of that last solid cell wall. But there was a person crumbled at the bottom. Wrists shackled with manacles and attached to heavy chains on the wall behind them, arms pulled backwards unnaturally, spine bent forward as they drooped forward. Arthur would recognize that pale skin, that messy hair anywhere.

" _Merlin?!_ "

The head snapped up, more quickly than Arthur would have expected, and he took an involuntary step back. The look in his eyes was smoldering anger. His blue eyes were shining, even in the dark, gilt flecks making them look like marbles. They were glowing in a face paler than Arthur remembered, black circles of exhaustion underneath them, lips dry and bleeding with dehydration.

But when they recognized Arthur, the anger bled away to relief. "A – Arthur?" His voice cracked.

He was in motion before he made a conscious thought, flying across the room with a broken cry to collapse at Merlin's feet. His hands fluttered over him uselessly, afraid to touch, afraid to injury or find injuries. But Merlin leaned forward, uncaring of the awkward angle of his arms, the uncomfortable arch of his shoulder blades, and slumped down against Arthur, head resting on his shoulder. "I knew you'd come back."

"I – Merlin – what – "

"Is Boston going to help us?"

"I – " Arthur collapsed against Merlin, resting his own forehead on the bony shoulder in front of him. "No. No they're not." When Merlin's breath hitched, Arthur had the terrible feeling that he might cry. "But it's alright! I'll write to my father! I'll do something, Merlin, anything!"

"Arthur, eleven more people were condemned to die at the end of the month. I don't think there's any stopping them." His breath hitched. "They pressed a man to death just last week because he refused to confess." His breaths were coming hard and fast against Arthur's collarbone. "They don't care if people are innocent, Arthur. _They don't care_."

"They can't keep you here!" He was vibrating with the fear that any of those things could happen to Merlin. Merlin who wouldn't hurt a fly, who let a fox steal his scarf, who juggled for children to make them laugh, who carried water for old women. "You're a good person!"

"The servants of the Devil take many guises, child."

The soft voice, filled with righteous authority made the hair on Arthur's neck stand up. He straightened just enough to turn and glare at Reverend Parris. "What do you know of the Devil, _Reverend_? Have you ever met him? Because I'm pretty sure Merlin isn't his emissary!"

"Don't be so sure of things you don't understand, boy." He was really getting sick of people calling him that. "A court of your peers have declared this creature a danger to our people. You would do well to follow our instruction, or you will find yourself suffering the same fate as him."

"Don't threaten him."

Arthur thought it was the snapping acid in Merlin's voice that made Parris blanch and hastily exit the room, but when he turned triumphant eyes to his friend, he felt his own face paling. Because as he stared at the hallway the Reverend had left through, glaring after him, Merlin's eyes were yellow sunbursts in his face – there was no blue anymore. Just fiery, golden orbs that glinted and gleamed with emotion.

Arthur hadn't realized that he'd gasped until Merlin's eyes snapped up to his. Entranced, Arthur watched blue bleed back into his eyes, like watching water at the ocean fill a hole. It seeped into his eyes until they were Merlin's eyes once more, looking at him in panic and trepidation, taking great gulping breaths of air through his nose like he was having an anxiety attack. "Arthur I – "

" _WHAT THE HELL?!"_

Merlin's eyes were frantic as they darted first to the door, then to the wall beside him, which on the opposite side housed several dozen people. "Arthur, be quiet – "

" _You have magic?!_ " This was hissed between clenched teeth, too low for anyone but themselves to hear. Merlin looked almost out of his head with alarm, but Arthur didn't care. He was replaying every moment, every conversation he'd ever had. His mother – had she been a witch? Was Gaius? Had Merlin bespelled Arthur, was that why he'd been behaving like such a wanton whore around him? And another thing – "Why didn't you _tell_ me?" Arthur was astonished to hear his voice crack on the last word.

Merlin seemed as surprised by the question at Arthur himself. "I – well, I didn't want to be arrested." His brow furrowed. "And I didn't think you'd believe me…" He was watching Arthur warily, like a stray dog who was unsure if the person holding out food meant to help or harm. "Are you –"

"That's ridiculous!" Arthur spoke right over him. "First of all, why would I have you arrested? I clearly… feel… something for you… if that's real…"

Blue eyes widened, looking huge in his white face. " _Yes!_ I mean, well, I hope you do." Suddenly realizing what Arthur had meant, he continued hurriedly. "I can't do magic… like that. Well, I could, I guess, but it's common knowledge that it always has terrible repercussions."

"Hm. Well, anyway, and second of all, you could have just _showed_ me something to make me believe you." Arthur was frowning at him, but his anger face fading to something else… hurt. "I trust you Merlin." His voice grew quieter. "Don't you trust me?"

Instead of saying anything, Merlin leaned up, arching his spine in what Arthur was sure was a painful position, craning his neck upwards, pressing his mouth to Arthur's, his worry and fear and trust bleeding from his lips to Arthur's.

Arthur gave an incoherent little cry, opening his mouth under the assault, allowing the feeling to wash over him in waves. This was real. There was no way this was a spell, except for the spell of the man in front of him himself. There was no magic here except the magic of desire and lust and longing. There was only real sensation– wanting to touch, to give, to take, to feel.

He couldn't lose this.

"Merlin, can't you escape from this?"

Their foreheads were pressed together, but Arthur could see Merlin staring at him. "You mean use magic to break out of these chains and this jail?"

"Well, yes…"

"Arthur, I've been trying not to draw attention to these poor people. I helped John Aldan get away, but let the others die. Not because I _couldn't_ help them, but because to make a scene like that, would be worse in the end. More people would suffer with something so obvious out in the open." His eyes were wide and earnest. "Don't you see that?"

He understood that reasoning, even respected it. But he also hated it. It meant that he had to leave Merlin here, had to walk out of here without him. "Yes." His answer was resigned. "But I will get you out of here." He held Merlin's chin in his hand. Merlin was smiling at him, in a soft and brilliant sort of way that made Arthur's stomach somersault wildly. "Do you understand me? If I have to petition the King of England himself, I will get you out of here."

"Alright, Arthur." There was that soft doe-smile again. "I trust you."

* * *

Two weeks later and Arthur was still waiting anxiously for a reply from his father. It was his last idea, but it was taking too long. Just this afternoon, they executed eleven accused witches. So many that they didn't all fit on the gallows. It took two turns of hangings. It was the worst thing Arthur had ever witnessed.

Until one of the victims decided to shout out as her noose was tightened, "You will never be free of the Devil while Merlin Emyrs lives!"

Pandemonium erupted and wasn't fully resolved until the Reverend, with all his holy rights, stood on the scaffold and addressed the crowd. "My friends, my friends! We have heard from the mouth of a tried and true witch the only way to end our suffering! We will destroy this evil and cleanse our town of this monster!" The crowd cheered, even as Arthur felt the ground fall out from under him. "We will burn the Devil out of him!"

And for the first time in his life, Arthur was terrified.


	12. Chapter 12 October 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 2,805  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

The cells were dank and moist – sun only trickling in from the high, high barred windows, the light making strange shadows on the floor. Rats chittered from their hidey-holes, spiders and roaches scurried across the floor. Water dripped incessantly. Men and women were brought into the cells almost daily – in singles or in pairs. They always ragged the first day: men shouted and beat their fists and shook the bars, women offered promises, cajoled and begged. But as the time passed they always became resigned to their fate. They became broken, sobbing lumps of flesh, huddled together for warmth, for solidarity. Just waiting to die.

Merlin thought he would go mad.

It was torture not to help this people, to idle here, waiting for the next death sentence. It was killing him not to slip these chains and _heal_ these people, soothe their wounds, heal their aches. But the gut-rending terror that he would only make things worse, stayed his hand.

Arthur was a light to him in these times as nothing else would. No visitors had been allowed in the jail since Merlin had been chained there, but when Arthur had forced his way in it seemed to release the floodgates. Suddenly, all of the prisoners had visitors. They cried through the bars, gripping their loved ones hands, the prayed fiercely together. But it was noise, it was music.

They all gave his corner a wide, shifty-eyed berth, but Arthur… Arthur came every day. Every day, eyes resolute and defiant as he glared at people while he took his place before Merlin. He whispered of his plan in hushed tones. His father would help, he was sure. John Aldan would return soon from wherever he had gone. They would get help. And if no help came, Arthur would break Merlin out of this jail cell himself with his bare hands.

"What are you smiling at?"

Merlin blinked, not even realizing a soft grin had taken over his face. But he answered earnestly. "You." It curled his toes to watch the gentle blush spread from Arthur's cheeks, down his throat. He wondered how far down it went…

"We don't have time for that, idiot, weren't you listening?"

The grin widened. "No, not really."

Arthur huffed, but the glare was damped by his still red cheeks. "John Aldan returned yesterday." Merlin sat up straighter in in stocks. "But he was captured sneaking into the village and they have his locked up in the Reverend's house. Now I managed to get an audience with him," he smirked cockily at his own grandeur, "and there's good news and bad news. The good news," he continued, without asking Merlin which he'd rather hear first, "is that he someone hoodwinked the people from Boston who told _me_ no," (a flabbergasted expression), "and managed to have them order that the witchcraft Court be dissolved and all the judges be removed." Holding up a finger to quell Merlin's shout of excitement, "But! The Reverend is being obviously obtuse about this and refusing to comply." There was a long pause where Merlin thought Arthur was going to launch into his plan, but there was nothing. "Well, what should we do?"

"We?"

"Well, how am I supposed to sneak into Parris' office, steal the document, and then sneak out again, all without being seen? I don't have," he lowered his voice to almost nothing, " _magic powers_."

A snort. "Well you'll have to think of something, prat, because I'm a little tied up here."

Arthur rolled those blue eyes that Merlin loved so much in exasperation. "Fine, I'll do everything myself. It'll serve you right if I get caught and end up in here right along with you," he added, waggling a finger in Merlin's face.

His posturing broke off suddenly when Merlin leaned up, screws coming free of the wall so he could reach out and yank Arthur to him. By passing that arrogant mouth, he pressed his lips right to the sensitive shell of Arthur's ear, feeling him tremble with the heat of his breath. "Well, then, I really would have to escape, _Arthur_ ," his name was a growling promise and Arthur shuddered forcibly with it, "in order to protect you." Shifting backwards again, he allowed his magic to quietly replace the chains, smirking widely at Arthur as he tried to compose himself.

When he noticed Merlin's leer he huffed, and stood, lips pouting and annoyed. "Yes, well, let's hope it doesn't come to that." But when he left, Merlin heard him mutter to himself, " _Or maybe hope that it does_ ," and he laughter followed Arthur all the way back to the streets.

* * *

Unfortunately neither of those scenarios happened, well, not the way they had intended anyway. Two days later, just when Merlin was starting to think he should begin worrying about Arthur a little bit, Reverend Parris entered the jail. He was standing tall and sure of himself, his face a blank mask of religious piousness. But behind that Merlin could see the gleam in his eyes of haughtiness, the kind of person who thought he was superior to others. When he halted in front of Merlin and stared down at him, Merlin felt dread swirl within him.

"A little dragon was found in my office last night," he said. "It seems reasonable to believe he was partnered up with the witch John Aldan, whom is one of your agents." Merlin snorted at that, but Parris continued over him. "So we are working under the assumption that Arthur Pendragon is also an agent of the Devil, namely you."

Feigning unconcern, he glanced up at the reverend. "And you've come to tell me that my supposed servant will be joining me soon?"

"No." The long pause continued on until Merlin met the man's eyes, startled at their glee. "In order to break the Devil's hold on them, John Aldan and Arthur Pendragon will both be executed tomorrow morning." He made a passing comment over the state of Merlin's soul and left, but Merlin was no longer listening.

He was falling, dying, losing his grip. Arthur… executed? His eyes glowed golden fire, livid hawk's eyes, his hair bristling with electricity. That would _not_ happen. Not while he breathed.

* * *

It was almost sad how simple a thing it was to make his chain's snap open, and to blanket the prisoners and guards with the suggestion of sleep. After that it was merely child's play to sneak across town. It was late, most of the village was asleep, by staying close to the buildings, in the shadows, he was able to avoid the few people still wandering the streets.

The Reverend's house was a large, sprawling complex attached to the town church, with his office situated off to the side. Merlin hoped that's where the Reverend was keeping them both, there would be less of a chance of being caught, less of a chance of him having to do something drastic. With a flick of his wrist, the door opened, and Merlin slipped in as silent as a shadow.

It only took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the interior of the room, no moonlight to light the way, but in that moment, a softly muttered, " _Holy shit_ ," echoed throughout the space.

Merlin snapped his head to follow the noise, and found John Aldan staring at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. He looked terrible – both eyes bruised, lip still sluggishly bleeding – but he was staring into Merlin's glowing eyes in shock.

" _Merlin?_ "

Another snap, and Merlin found who he was looking for. Arthur looked marginally better than Aldan, having only been here for a single night. The excitement at his impending execution had probably helped to stay Parris' hand to some degree. But Merlin didn't have time for him right now. He was too angry, strung too tightly. So he turned back to Aldan, who was watching his bright eyes with something akin to terror. "I here you bring us something from Boston? Should I assume Parris has it?" He really wasn't looking forward to having to steal that back from what he was sure would be somewhere in the reverend's room.

But Aldan was shaking his head. "My locket."

Merlin raised a skeptical eyebrow, but reached for the small locket around his neck. As soon as he touched it, his eyes shot open in shock. "This is bespelled."

"My grandmother," he elaborated, while Arthur sputtered in the background indignant at being ignored. "That's why I knew what you were, why I asked for your help." He watched as Merlin waved a hand over the jewelry and it shimmered and changed into a rolled up scroll. "That urges the governor to dissolve the court here."

A second wave of Merlin's hand and Aldan's shackled snapped open and off. He rubbed his wrists, gratefully accepting Merlin's outstretched hand to help him stand. With a snap, Arthur's restraints fell open, too, but Merlin held up a hand when he would have started towards Merlin. "Go home, Aldan and I are going to bring this to the governor."

"But I can he-"

"No." Merlin's tone was resolute and firm, vibrating with ire. " _Go home, Arthur_."

* * *

He didn't dwell on Arthur's hurt face while he and Aldan snuck across town to the governor's house. He didn't dwell on the all-consuming rage he felt when he thought of how close he'd come to losing Arthur while he helped Aldan into the governor's room and startled the man awake. He didn't think of what would happen when the guards found that he'd escape or when Parris discovered his missing prisoners. He only focused on completing this mission, hopefully coming one step closer to ending these trials and saving the rest of the imprisoned.

When he returned to his house, for the first time in weeks, it had never crossed his mind that Arthur might have returned to his own house. He had taken for granted that Arthur would be here in his own home waiting for him, since he knew Arthur had been using this cottage as a sort of command post. His entire walk home he was wondering what to say, trying to calm his tumultuous mind.

But all of those thoughts fell by the wayside, when he slammed open his door and saw Arthur seated at his counter, looking up at him with a mixture of consternation and dread.

" _You idiot_ ," he snarled. Arthur started at that, standing abruptly, a complaint on his lips, but Merlin was having nothing of it. "You small-brained, dim-witted, arrogant _idiot!_ " He was stalked forward with long angry strides, a jungle cat stalking his terrified prey. From the look on Arthur's face and the electricity swirling through his own veins, he knew his eyes were brilliantly saffron with his emotions. "Do you have any idea," he continued, each word a step forward for Merlin, each word was Arthur taking a frantic step backwards, "what I want to do to you for worrying me like that?"

When Arthur's heels hit the staircase, he fell backwards, sprawled elegantly across the beams, staring up at Merlin, eyes nervous and … intrigued. "N- now see her, Merlin! I will not be –"

"Do you know what I would have done _for_ you?" As he leaned down, closer, but still not touching, his voice took on a seductive purr. "I would have destroyed this town for you, Arthur, and every single person in it." Arthur's pupils were blown wide with desire, panting. "Don't you know that?"

With a moaning cry, Arthur reached out, yanking Merlin down on top of him. He didn't seem to care that the stairs were digging into his spine, sure to give him a line of bruises come morning. All he seemed to want was more of Merlin and that was something he was only too willing to comply with. His hands roamed over Arthur's clothed form, lips moving from lips to fasten on an inviting neck. When Merlin's hands slid underneath Arthur's shirt, sparks sprung from his fingertips to Arthur's skin.

The cry he gave was primal and wanting, echoing around the empty house. His hands fisted in the cloth on Merlin's shoulder, arching up into him, leg falling open so abruptly that Merlin slammed down on top of him. They both groaned at the new contact, Merlin nearly delirious with the way Arthur felt beneath him. " _Merlin_ ," his name had never sounded so sinful. "Bed. _Now_."

Merlin was only too happy to comply. They left a trail of clothing from the bottom of the stairs to the foot of Merlin's bed, all the while hands were skimming over newly revealed skin reverently. Merlin couldn't get enough of Arthur's skin, wanting, _needing_ to verify with his own hands that he was whole, that he was alright, that Merlin had really saved him.

"Ah – ah! Merlin! Let me go!" Blue eyes glared up at him, his arms were pinned above his head, his fingers twitching and flexing with intent.

Merlin held up his own two hands. "But I'm not holding you, _Arthur_." Frowning, Arthur tried to twist up to see his own wrists, finding nothing on them. He turned his glare back to Merlin, who responded with a cheeky grin. "What's matter, can't handle a little, _magic_?" On the final word, he skimmed his finger pads up Arthur's lean torso, sparks dancing across the skin.

"Ah! Holy – _holy shit_." Arthur's hips arched up, before Merlin held them down with the hand not currently leaving a trail of fire up Arthur's side. His muscled clenched with his efforts to release himself from the magical ties, but Merlin was having none of it.

"I thought I was going to lose you, Arthur." Merlin was still above him, waiting until Arthur had focused on his face before continuing. "And I – I don't know what I would have done."

"Merlin, I'm sor –"

"No, don't be, it's not your fault." One hand was twining in Arthur's hair, tousling the dirty blond strands soothingly. "I was just worried and angry, I shouldn't have… reacted the way I did."

Arthur gave a cheeky smirk from below him. "I didn't necessarily mind it."

With a laugh, Merlin planted a kiss on Arthur's nose, delighting in the way his eyes crossed trying to follow the motion. "Well, no, but I still shouldn't have done it. And to apologize," he said, starting to slide down the length of Arthur's body, planting a kiss on each pectoral, "I mean," another kiss next to his navel, making Arthur's hips start to squirm, "to show you," two fleeting kisses on the inside of each thigh, making them fall open invitingly, but he forced himself onward, "exactly how much," a kiss on the back of each knee, "you mean to me." He's reached Arthur's feet and was looking up the length of his splayed out body, at his eyes glazed with pleasure, breath coming in panting gasps, hips thrusting shallowly in want. Merlin grinned. This was going to be fun.

* * *

A knock on his door the next morning was met with groggy sounds of dismay. Merlin grunted when a hard foot kicked him in the side. Eyes blinking blearily in the dawn light, he stumbled downstairs, dodging the trail of last night's clothing gracelessly. When he yanked open the door in irritation, squinting in the sun, it was to the startled face of John Aldan.

"What?"

Seemingly undeterred by Merlin's less than stellar greeting, he peered interestedly over his shoulder, eyes following the trail of clothing up the stairs and taking in Merlin's state of half-dress, his messy hair, the what was surely a love-bite forming on his neck. " _Good morning_ ," he said purringly.

"What. Do. You. Want."

Grin widening, Aldan shrugged. "I just thought you might like to know that the Governor agreed to Boston's idea." He paused, letting that sink in. "He's agreed to dissolve the Witchcraft Courts. They're still looking for someone impartial to take over the remaining cases and any more accused, but as of now, no one can be condemned."

Merlin didn't even bother to thank him for his message. He simply whooped loudly, grabbed Aldan in for a hug, then shut the door in his face. He heard Arthur sleepily asking who that had been, and Merlin beamed with anticipation. He couldn't wait to tell him!


	13. Chapter 13 November 1692

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,874  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

Arthur fidgeted in his seat, trying to adjust his position to one more comfortable, but the hard wooden surface was doing nothing to alleviate his discomfort. When noticed Merlin practically leering at him triumphantly, he huffed, and turned away. Prat. This was all his fault anyway.

They were, for the second time this month, seated in the courthouse, watching the judges and the Reverend argue back and forth over the issue of their Court being dissolved. The Reverend himself seemed to think it was a sign that the Devil had his minions ensconced in Boston and they would be doing God's work to ignore the order. He had enough people listening to his ranting to be worrisome. But the rest either trusted Boston to make the right decision or were simply tired of all the drama and hysteria and were ready to pawn off their trials to someone else. Whomever it may wind up being.

As boring as these meetings were, Arthur supposed they were lucky they were happening at all. It easily could have gone a completely different way when Parris discovered that, not only had his "proven witch" escaped, but the devil's two cohorts had escaped with him. It was enough to light a stick under anyone. And he had been incensed.

" _We must recapture the Devil and his pawns!"_

 _When Merlin had gleefully woken Arthur a few weeks ago, it had still taken them several hours to venture out of bed and into the town. In that time, Parris had risen to almost apocalyptic rage. He was red-faced and fuming, spittle flying from his mouth as he screamed at a crowd gathered dolefully before his church._

" _They will corrupt our children and steal their souls! They will seduce our women and sacrifice the men to their dark desires! They are evil, heathen, demon spawn and must be stopped!" Half the crowd seemed to be cheering in earnest, the rest with a kind of resigned fate that this was their life now, and they were being pulled along for the ride._

" _I take offense to that."_

 _Though Merlin did not show any outward sign of having performed a spell that Arthur could tell, his quiet voice carried well about the villagers and the Reverend. There was an immediate hush, as the people all turned, trying to find the owner of the voice. Arthur gripped tightly to Merlin's arm in warning, but, after a reassuring brush of fingers, he was shaken loose._

" _I find it impossible to corrupt children," he said, beginning to walk towards Parris, the crowd parting before him like Moses parting the Red Sea. "And I certainly won't be seducing anyone's wives," he spun to wink one cerulean eye at Arthur, who grit his teeth in irritation. "Nor will I be sacrificing anything – other than my patience over this charade, of course." By this time, he was standing on the dais with Parris who was staring at him with a mixture of wrath and terror. His guards were shifting on their feet – torn between the desire to arrest an escaped criminal and the fear that he really was a witch. "You have no say in this matter anymore, Parris. Boston has dissolved your Witchcraft Court, it is no more. No more innocent people will lose their lives because of you."_

" _The new court could continue to find the witches just as I did, demon!"_

 _Merlin nodded, ignoring the insult. "I suppose, but that is their call to make, not yours. Leave these people alone. Go back to preaching and teaching Sunday school. Leave the death sentences for someone less bloodthirsty." The crowd began to murmur in agreement, seeing the truth in Merlin's words, the realization beginning to dawn that maybe, just maybe, this had gotten out of hand._

 _Seeing that he was losing them, Parris acted out again. "But you are no idly accused, boy! A witness saw you with glowing devil eyes! I might not be able to burn the devil from you, or arrest your conspirators without proof, but I can certainly take you back to your prison cell!"_

 _When Merlin rolled his eyes Arthur felt his stomach drop. He wouldn't say anything stupid would he? "Reverend Parris, listen to me closely: I am not a demon or a devil, nor am I in accordance with one. But let me ask you this – if you honestly believed I was, do you think that you could stop me?" Oh, dear Lord, he would. They were dead now._

 _Parris gaped at him, a fish out of water. He stuttered to find the words to say, but nothing was forthcoming. When he turned to the crowd, perhaps for a show of solidarity, of support, he found instead that they were simply watching him intently, waiting interestedly for his response._

" _Sir," Merlin said, his voice soothing, seductive. Arthur shivered. He could tell now, there was a spark of magic in those words, a gentle persuasion. "I promise you that I mean no one in this village, or any other, any harm. I swear this to you." His eyes were deep and sincere – staring into Parris like divine intervention, the townspeople mesmerized by his words. "You believe me?" Though lilted like a question, Arthur heard the command in the tone, saw the finality of the spell slam down on Parris as he heaved a sigh and slumped his shoulders, defeated._

" _Yes, God willing, boy, I believe you."_

 _Merlin turned to the crowd, resolute and endearing, smile wide and boyish and bright – someone who was no threat. "As you have no doubt heard, Boston has dissolved the Witchcraft Court here in Salem, and has forbidden any more or your family and friends to be condemned to the Gallows." There were scattered cheers, a few curses. "But until someone is appointed who can oversee the trials of the presently accused, I – am sorry but they will have to remain where they are." A loud wail cut through the silence. Merlin himself looked pained, no doubt thinking of Gaius and the terrible conditions of the cells. "But you may freely visit, bring them food and blankets and provisions if you wish, anything to make their time easier. My mentor, Gaius, has trained me in medicine, so I will gladly see to anyone who is injured or unwell. All you need to do is ask."_

 _After thanking them for their attention, he graciously yielded the platform back to Parris and stepped down, walking back to Arthur with a grin on his face. Arthur was less-than-amused and it showed, as they started to walk away from the crowd. "You could have been arrested again."_

 _A shrug. "I could have gotten out again, too."_

 _Arthur's frown deepened, his arms crossed stubbornly. "They could have just killed you, Boston be damned."_

 _That irritating grin widened. Arthur was really starting to hate that grin. But then Merlin leaned in close – very close – to purr against his lips, "So then I guess we should make the most of our time together." When Arthur sucked in an astonished breath a spark of electric currant, magic, streaked across his lips and all the way down to coil hot and heavy in his stomach._

 _Yes, he was really starting to hate that grin._

But it had been several weeks since then, and things were starting to deteriorate. For a while, the hope of a new court kept the most intense witch-hunters quiet, even the "possessed" girls were noticeably calm and complacent. But as one week turned into two, tempers started to fray again, thoughts started to wander, witchcraft started to be seen in the most incongruous of people. Then two weeks turned into three and suddenly three, then four, more women were accused of witchcraft and arrested. The villagers seemed to think that, if Boston was going to try the witches, they had better give them plenty of witches to try.

"Order! Order!" A gavel slammed loudly onto the judge's table several times, jerking Arthur back into the present. "We are not hear to speak of whether or not the accused should be condemned, that is no longer our place. We are not here to speak about releasing the accused, that is also no longer our place. We are here to question the intelligence of continuing to accuse our brethren of witchcraft, when we are no longer responsible for their trials. Should not the new Court accuse, try, and condemn witches?"

"But we have no new Court! Boston has forgotten us!"

"While they idle, witches still walk among us!"

"I just want my husband back, he is no witch, I swear to you!"

And on and on. They argued back and forth, yelling overtop of one another. It was a wonder anyone's statements could be heard at all, their raucous cry echoing in the room like hundreds of crow calls. When a hand gripped his in a firm and steadfast grip, Arthur glanced sideways at Merlin, nodding to him to show he was fine. Merlin knew he hated these meeting, he hated the melee and disorder and the volume.

As if on cue, a resounding slam reverberated throughout the room, as loud as a canon, the crowd immediately descending into silence. Everyone arched and craned their necks and spun in their seats, looking towards the door, trying to see who had made such a reverberating entrance. Arthur, too dignified to be caught spinning in his seat ( _And too sore_ , a voice inside his head muttered), faced sternly forward, letting Merlin do the peering for the both of them.

"Well you all seem to be a lively bunch."

The sound of the voice made Arthur sit rigid in his seat, back ramrod straight, practically vibrating. Merlin turned to him questioningly but –

"Is Arthur Pendragon here?"

He could feel Merlin staring at him questioningly eyes hard and bright, but chose to ignore it, standing instead to face the new arrival. "Lancelot, how nice of you to travel across the ocean for me." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Come now, Arthur, don't look so put out." He slapped his hand against Arthur's back, before dragging him forward until they were both standing before the judge's stand. "Now, I am Lancelot, sent here as an envoy from Uther Pendragon." He waited for the audible gasps to subside. "He's been in contact with Boston over the past few months, due to the overwhelming disorder in your court system here." He paused a beat, letting the insult simmer. "In order to rectify the situation, the General Court of the colonies has created the Superior Court to try the remaining witchcraft cases."

"And who will be judge and jury for this so-called _Superior Court_?" Ah, Parris, still the same surly old Reverend.

Lancelot grinned. "Why Arthur will, of course."


	14. Chapter 14 January 1693

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 1,487  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

With a sigh, Merlin collapsed onto his mattress, groaned at the soft weight of it, and sinking in. He could not remember a time in his life that he had ever been this tired – and that included those heinous six months when Gaius had had him out at all hours of the night hunting fireflies for some obscure ritual.

The mattress bounced and dipped beside him when Arthur followed his head and collapsed beside him. "I'm so _tired_."

Rolling over, Merlin pressed his side against the long length beside him, delighting in the simple act of being able to reach out and touch, whenever he wanted. It was still a novelty to him, one that he was looking forward to taking advantage of for many, many years. "Me, too."

"You, too?" The tone was thick with sarcasm, and Arthur turned his head to blink open one bleary eye at Merlin, eyebrow arched in consternation. "Why? Have you had to perform fifty-two – that's _fifty-two_ if you didn't hear me – retrials for the accused? Trying to sift out actual evidence from hearsay? Or have you just been hanging out there, eating and making unwanted comments under your breath?"

Merlin grinned. "I don't understand why you can't just let them all go? I mean – you've released forty-nine of them, why not just release the last couple, too?"

Arthur sighed, sitting up and looking down at Merlin, eyes serious and determined. " _Those_ people were only being held and had only been accused based on spectral evidence. Things that won't hold up in a court of low. I can't prove some woman's spirit didn't accost someone at night." He shrugged. "Maybe people here just have really intense nightmares."

"But – "

"But the remaining accused have more substantial evidence pitted against them. And I'm sorry," he said when Merlin opened his mouth to argue again, "that Gaius happens to be one of them. But I can't show favoritism, _especially_ ," he said, poking Merlin in the stomach, making the air whoosh out of him, "since I _know_ that Gaius really is a witch."

Flashing Arthur another cheeky grin, the one that always made him roll his eyes – ah, there it was – and forgive him, Merlin reached up to tangle his fingers in Arthur's hair. "Yeah, I suppose so." Fiddling with the strands, he hesitated, mulling over his words.

"What is it, Merlin?"

He smiled softly. He could never hide anything from him. "I was just wondering," he said casually, trailing a hand down Arthur's side, watching the eyes try to frown at him, but fluttering closed at the sensation, "if you had heard," that trailing hand reach jutting hipbones, fingers splaying and pressing, breath stuttering, "from you dear friend Lancelot recently…"

Blue eyes snapped open. "Are you s-serious?" He words hitched when delicate finger ventured under the waistband of his trousers. "You k-know very _well_ that there is noth – noth – nothing there!"

With a quick twist, Merlin flipped them over, pinning Arthur beneath him, eyes narrows and predatory and gold. "Ah, but I see the way he looks at you, Arthur." He nudged knees apart, settled himself firmly on top of the body splayed beneath him. "He looks at you as if he is imaging doing all" nails scraped down his sides, "sorts," teeth nipped a jaw, "of" hips rolled, "things" hips _thrust_ , "to you," a tongue dipped into a gasping mouth.

* * *

Later, much later, while they lazed beside one another, quiet and content, Arthur cleared his throat. When Merlin glanced down at him. "Lancelot," he paused, swallowed, then continued. "He was in love with me – or close to it, I guess, I don't know." He shrugged. "We were very young. He was – is – one of my father's soldiers, but a commoner." When Merlin arched a brow at them, Arthur flushed. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that, but, I mean – he was, we were both men, and I – "

"Hey." Merlin brushed a gentle hand through Arthur's hair. "It's alright, little dragon." He smiled. "I thought as much. He looks at you with great affection." At Arthur's terrified expression, Merlin chuckled. "Like someone who's crush had turned into true friendship. You shouldn't snub him so. I won't get jealous." He watched with great interest as the flush, which had almost dissipated, returned full force.

"I mean, that's not, a problem, exactly." It was mumbled so softly that Merlin had to strain to hear it.

Another chuckle. "Well I can do that without being jealous." He flicked the tip of Arthur's nose. "I just meant that I trust you." He ached to ask Arthur what it was that made Merlin different from Lancelot, but wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. If it was something – fleeting – he didn't want to know yet. Better to live in this dream a little longer. He could wait. Settling Arthur more firmly against his side, he decided to change the subject – lifestyle changes and emotions could only be spoken of for so long before things started to get awkward. "Have you thought about what you're going to do about the remaining accused?"

When Arthur heaved a sigh beside him, it was ragged and deep – clearly it was something that he had been dwelling on for a long time, weeks, perhaps months. "Well there's nothing I can do about them – I'm here to see if any of the accused are not witches. I've done that. It will take a higher power than my temporarily granted position to pardon them. I guess I should tell the villagers that."

Merlin was nodding in agreement as he spoke. "And to settle the people from continuing to accuse new witches?"

"I was actually thinking that maybe you can help me with that…"

" _Me_?" He sounded skeptical.

"Yeah." Arthur was grinning in a way that was making Merlin decidedly nervous. "I just need to know a little bit more about witchcraft."

* * *

"Attention! Attention!" Arthur's voice rang out across the chamber, loud and resolute, broking no argument. The room descended into silence. "I would like to address a few concerns about the remaining accused." He passed, Merlin thought mostly for affect – he was good at things like that. "Unfortunately, the evidence against those remaining is more than I can easily overlook. I have no experience in witchcraft trials, only in general courts of law. As such, those remaining will wait for a higher power than myself to clear their names. But they will be removed from the general prison cells and be placed under house arrest at the local in." When gentle murmuring and conversation began, he held up one hand. "In addition, in order to address the remaining issues some of you still seem to have to accusing new witches," he glared at a few choice individuals who fidgeted in their seats, "there are now pamphlets for your use in order to assist you. Thank you."

 _Accusing Witches_

 _1\. If something happened to you while you were sleeping: it was a dream, not a witch  
_ _2\. Witches do not bargain with the Devil, nor are they the minions of the Devil  
_ _3\. If you see someone performing a sacrifice, please alert the authorities, they are a murderer.  
_ _4\. Midwifes, healers, doctors, farmers – none of these people are witches  
_ _5\. Please bring any notice of strange signs or symbols to the authorities  
_ _6\. Please remember that children and vindictive adults have been known to play pranks that might be misconstrued as witchcraft.  
_ _7\. Medicinal potions are not "magic" – they are healing arts utilizing the items on the Earth that God has given us.  
_ _8\. People who speak other language or have strange names are not witches, they are foreign._

 _We live in a world juxtaposed between two eras: the era of our ancestors, of myth and magic, and the era of our children, of truth and religion. We, as the people of a noble and intelligent society, must be able to set aside our differences and, yes, our beliefs, for moments such as these. Are the people who do things differently from us witches – in league with the Devil? Or are they merely different? As different as men and women, but still the same in all the ways that matter. God teaches us to love one another – to be kind to our neighbors – to not judge. Let us be children of the Lord in the way that he intended us to be._

 _-Arthur Pendragon  
_ _Judge, Superior Court_


	15. Chapter 15 May 1693

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 2,048  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

If someone had asked Arthur five years ago what he thought would be the most exhausting thing he would ever participate in, he would not have said "judging accused witches." If someone had asked him two years ago if he thought the witchcraft paranoia would have lasted so long or become such an integral part of his life and the life of the Salem villagers, he would have not have said "yes." If someone had asked him a year ago, six months ago, what was his reason for getting by, for persevering, he would not have said, "Merlin Emrys."

But honestly, all of those things were true. Sunup to sundown, Arthur read over cases of accused witches. There were always more, it seemed. No matter how many witnesses he spoke to, accused he interviews, or officials he questioned, there were always more. But with every accused he released, a little weight was lifted off of his shoulders, a knot untwisted in his stomach, a sense of righteousness and integrity at what he was helping accomplish and achieve.

Where Arthur grew up, people in the country still spoke of being pagan, but they weren't witches. From what Arthur had seen and studied, they worshipped nature, the world. They were quiet, reflective folk, but they were not magic. Not like Merlin.

Without meaning to, his eyes slid across the office to Merlin, who was sprawled across the couch, deeply asleep, but frowning, even in his slumber. Standing and crossing the room silently, Arthur sat on the coffee table so he could pull the papers strewn about into a neat stack. Merlin was so worried about Gaius, was staying up all hours of the night with him, trying to make his ordeal easier, trying to find ways to free him that were legal and foolproof. He was wearing himself thin trying to accomplish it.

Arthur let his eyes drink in the site before him: tousled hair, arched porcelain cheeks, a pouting mouth. It killed him that he could not free Gaius for Merlin, not with good conscious, not when the proof was more real that dreams and spectral images. His eyes followed the breadth of shoulders, the dip of collarbone, watched the steady, even breathing for a moment. Salem needed a higher power than his hastily granted position to free the remaining accused. There was nothing else Arthur could do on his end, for all his months of trying, to release them.

His eyes rose again to that sleeping face, curious, contemplative. What would happen when all the jails of Salem were empty? When there were no more witchcraft trials? With the trust Uther had put in him here, Arthur could easily return home and rule somewhere much larger and grander than this. But…

He sighed, covering Merlin with a blanket and heading back towards his desk. But would Merlin leave?... No, not with Gaius here, not with his life here, his love of the country and the solitude and quiet. Would he give Arthur a reason to stay?

Though Arthur sat at his desk, he picked up no more papers. He simply continued to watch Merlin in his slumber, thinking of their future.

* * *

Another month dragged by. The villagers were starting to settle down, no more judges or young girls wreaking havoc or causing drama – no more seeds of discontent being sown. So now when Arthur released an accused, there were no others to take their place. Simply jails remaining empty for the first time in over a year. Families were reunited, the morale of the town was improved. Salem was the way Arthur remembered it from when he had first arrived. If only that last few could be redeemed…

"Mr. Pendragon?"

His head shot up at his name, taking in the man standing in his doorway. Tall, maybe in his late fifties, with a large, hooked nose and a brilliant set of grey eyes. He was dressed in clothing that Arthur new to be expensive, so he stood, hand extended. "Yes?"

"Fantastic, I was told I would find you here!" The man's grip was sure and firm, and he shook Arthur's hand enthusiastically. "You've done remarkable work here, young man. Very remarkable, indeed."

Arthur blinked slowly, letting his hand fall back to his side as he watched the man sit before his desk warily. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir." He wondered where Merlin was. He knew who everyone was, it was some sort of gift. "You are?"

"Well, I'm here to help you end this whole ordeal, Mr. Pendragon. Governor Phips, at your service."

After he had snapped his mouth closed, Arthur was speechless. "I'm so sorry, sir! I had no idea you were coming, I must – "

But Phips waved off his apologies dismissively. "It was an impromptu visit, my boy. I've been following what you've been doing here, and I'm very impressed." His smile was lopsided, strangely youthful on his lined face. "But I thought you might need some help with the remaining few cases and to settle any disparages with the Salem people."

Arthur felt the relief surge through him like a tidal wave. "Sir, you have no idea how incredible that would be."

"Well alright then, Mr. Pendragon," he said, standing and gesturing out the door. "Let's settle this matter once and for all."

* * *

It didn't take long to collect the villagers since news of Phips arrival had already spread to almost every corner of Salem. By the time the pair of them arrived at the meeting house, it was already half full of people, with more pouring in every moment, all of them craning their heads and arching their necks, trying to get a glimpse of their governor.

Arthur was busy making the same motion, but he was looking for someone completely different. He was scanning the crowd for a shock of ebony hair and searing blue eyes. The crowd was jostling him forward, until before he knew it, he and Phips were standing on the dais, a sea of expectant faces before them. Where was Merlin…

"My friends, my friends." What little murmuring there was slowly quieted at the governor's steady, resonate voice. "For those of you who do not know me, I am Governor Phips. I am here because it has come to my attention that Arthur Pendragon," he gestured at the man beside him, still staring into the crowd, "is at an impasse with your last remaining prisoners. I am here to rectify the situation."

Arthur was frowning out at the mass of people now as they pressed forward, all wanting to hear what Phips had to say.

" … It is my wish, and my decree…"

There was no way Merlin couldn't see this horde of people? How could he not sense something was going on in town? Was he the _only_ person not here for his?

"… that the remaining accused…"

Suddenly, a flash of blue, and wide eyes were staring at Arthur from one of the balconies – the same one he had first seen Merlin –

"… be immediately, and unquestionably, pardoned, and released from jail…"

The rest of Phips words were cut off by crowd – loudest of all a whoop that came from Merlin himself. For a moment Arthur felt his heart stop, sure that Merlin was going to leap from the balcony in his excitement, but he merely jumped enthusiastically up and down, grinning so widely at Arthur that he couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

"Would you care to say a few words?"

"Hm?" With a start, Arthur realized that Phips staring at him expectantly. "Ah, yes, of course." He glanced back up at Merlin, who was staring at him keenly. He nodded his head imperceptibly, mouthing "go," at him, knowing that he wanted to go and see Gaius and bring him home as soon as possible. With a smile and a nod, Merlin vanished, and Arthur turned back to the crowd.

* * *

It was only a few scant hours later that he was finally finished, bidding Phips farewell, and locking up the office.

"Well, now what, Pendragon?" The drawl made him turn, eyeing Lancelot as he leaned roguishly against the building. "Now that you've saved Salem from – well, themselves – the world's your oyster, isn't it?"

"Lancelot – "

"Arthur!" The voice made his heart leap and he turned from Lancelot's knowing grin with an eye roll, catching Merlin's eyes as he jogged towards them, eyes darting between them. Arthur ached to reach out to him, but refrained. Even though Lancelot was the only person present. "Gaius wanted to thank you personally, but I told him he should probably rest in the comfort of his own house finally." His eyes softened. " _I_ wanted to thank you."

Forcing down a blush, he mumbled, "It wasn't me, Phips – "

"Barely did anything. _You've_ been helping people for months. We have you to thank for this."

When Lancelot clapped a hand harshly on his back, Arthur jerked, startled. "And now he can do anything he wants. I'm sure Uther will be pleased to have you back, hey, Arthur?"

Arthur could have gleefully strangled the man who was grinning cheekily at him. Lancelot always was too perceptible for his – and everyone else's – own good. Merlin seemed confused, and Arthur hated it. He hated that look that slowly taking over his eyes: hesitant and unsure. "You – you're leaving?" His voice cracked on the last world, and he cleared his throat.

Arthur's throat felt full of cotton, his tongue like sandpaper in his mouth. "I – well, that is, if you hadn't heard, I resigned my post since the trials are officially over." He looked away, staring resolutely at his boots because Merlin's eyes were staring right through him. "I don't know if – I wasn't sure if – there was any reason, or anything, to stay… for…" His voice was getting lower and lower, until he was almost whispering.

There was a long, pregnant pause. Arthur was very aware that Lancelot was standing next to him, watching his life fall apart. Then: "I thought… you might stay for me." When his head shot up, breath stopped, heart thundering so loud in his ears he was positive they could hear it, Merlin was rubbing at the back of his neck, sheepish and adorable. "I had _hoped_ you would…" He trailed off.

Arthur couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. He took several jerking steps forward, closer. "Hoped for what?"

A shrug, artless and graceful, from Merlin, as he stood outlined in the sunset - beautiful. "I can't live with Gaius forever. I… if you were staying… I thought we might… live together." He started at Arthur with those knowing, seeing eyes again.

"Merlin –" _Say it, ask me, please, I can't ask you myself, please –_

"Will you stay with me?"

But Arthur was already nodding, a smile breaking out onto his face. When Merlin took two strides forward with a cheer and lifted Arthur off his feet like a schoolgirl, he shrieked, gripping tightly to shoulders as he was spun in a dizzying circle. "Merlin! St-!" He was set down so abruptly his teeth clacked together, but before he could complain his lips were covered with Merlin's, harsh, demanding, and happy.

And Arthur didn't care that Lancelot was laughing loudly and boisterously from behind them. He didn't care if there were people on the street who might see them. He didn't care if he disappointed his father by not returning home. All he cared about was Merlin. Merlin with his bright-eyed smile, his boyish charm, his jaw-cracking smile. Merlin with his pale skin and dark hair, his lean muscles, his quiet strength. Merlin who's magic gave Arthur goosebumps, who's kisses made Arthur dizzy, who's love made Arthur weak.

Merlin who was his other half, the other side to his coin, his soul.


	16. Chapter 16 January 1697

**Title:** Magic Words  
 **Genre:** Romance / History  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Pairing:** Merlin x Arthur  
 **Spoilers:** N/A  
 **Summary:** And they shall be among the people and they shall speak truths and whisper secrets. And thou shall know them by their craft… Thou shall not suffer a witch to live.  
 **Word Count:** 643  
 **Warnings:** AU

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Summary from the Bible?

 **A/N:** As someone obsessed with the Salem Witch Trials, this needed to happen.

* * *

Merlin couldn't quite contain the emotion in his chest, watching the site down below him. It had been years since the Salem Witch trials and the ache in his heart was still visceral and real when he thought about the death's involved. It still made his blood boil when he thought of the judges and officials egging on the crowd, creating more pandemonium, more chaos, more bloodshed. They had never apologized.

But yesterday, the General Court had observed a full day of fasting and prayers to commemorate the deaths of those Salem villagers who had been condemned as witches. Their families would finally get prayers said over their graves, they would be remembered for who they were and not why they died. They would get the funeral they deserved.

"And for my part, for what little it is worth all these long years later," Judge Samuel Sewall said, "I want to offer my most heartfelt apology and condolences. I know that it cannot bring back the lives that were lost and stolen from you, but know that I regret my part in it."

A hand grasped his tightly and he glanced down, not very far, into Arthur's prominent eyes, a smile softening his features without his noticing.

"I can only hope, that if there is something good to come out of this, it is this: that future generations look upon this moment in history as a warning. So that they may not let the mistakes of our past, dictate their future."

As the crowd's dispersed, Merlin remained behind, with Arthur at his side. His mind was filled with memories of his mother, of the villagers he'd seen die because of the paranoia over witchcraft.

"Merlin?"

At the quiet call of his name, Merlin shook off the melancholy of his thoughts and turned to smile at Arthur. "It's nothing." Arthur didn't care about his magic. He even liked it. He saw Merlin just for himself. "Let's go home."

Fin.

* * *

Historical Accuracy

I have strived to be as accurate as possible in their AU work. The number of people herein who were condemned is all 100% accurate, as are months of events to a certain respect. There are two historical timelines of events set slightly off kilter from one another (a "new" and an "old" version). I was raised on the old version so that's what I went with here. But the discrepancy between the two is minor, to say the least.

Facts about many of the accused and the girls are all also as accurate as I can make them. The description and characterization of Phips is entirely my own.

All in all, 19 people were executed by hanging (14 of them were women), 1 was pressed to death during torture. In addition – 5 people died in prison, 2 of them infants. John Aldan really did escape from prison with help, not from the Gallows, that was artistic license. The official day of morning and apology by Sewall really did take place years later.

* * *

I want to thank everyone so much for all of their kind words as I wrote this story. I'm sorry that I don't respond immediately to reviews, but I try to keep myself focused on the plot and the story during the length of time it takes me to write them, and I am very easily distracted.

But know that I read all of your kind words and they keep me encouraged and excited to keep writing.

Thank you all so much!


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